


SNAFU

by Riverlander974



Series: Carter Cousin Chronicles [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aunt Peggy Carter, Cousin Sharon Carter, Family Feels, Legacies Team are Protective of Their Tony, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), slight crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8023669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riverlander974/pseuds/Riverlander974
Summary: Following Smoke and Mirrors, everyone's in Wakanda now. Time to air it all out and start to figure out where to even begin fixing the cracks. There's a lot of work to get done, and the Legacies aren't feeling like making it easy for Team Cap. T'Challa hopes his home survives the drama.Beyond that, events are set in motion past Wakanda's borders that are equally worth worrying about - Red Skull's slipped away, the Accords are still up in the air, and the UN are not the only ones very interested in discovering where a large majority of their superheroes have disappeared to. Alone on US soil, Rhodey and Vision have to man the home front until a decision is reached on what happens after Wakanda.More tags to be added with updates.





	1. Chapter 1

“You know the drill, Mr Stark.”

“Hmm?” 

Tony blinked blearily away from the bright overhead lights. The after image was still hovering in his sight as he turned to Dana, blotting out the middle of her face. _When did she put on scrubs?_ Wasn't he the one wearing scrubs? Tony was confused. And sleepy. But he tried to focus on Dana, looking steadily down at him amidst the busy hub of activity he saw in the periphery, more people in scrubs, things being moved about. 

Dana tapped a finger slowly on the back of his right hand, _tap, tap, tap_. “Count backwards for me from ten, nice and slow.”

“Count…”

“That’s right,” her voice was still clear, but Tony thought her face was becoming more hazy. “Ten…”

“Nine…” Tony mumbled. “Eight… sev… seven…”

“Good, Mr Stark, keep going.”

“Six…”

* * *

Michael sat hunched in a seat, fingers steepled together and pressed hard between against his brow, breathing in deep through his nose and an out through his lips. A hand dropped heavy on his shoulders. He didn't have to look up to know who it was. 

The hand slid until a whole arm was draped across his shoulders, and Michael felt a chin dig into his shoulder. “I'm sorry—”

“No, Sharon, you did so well,” Michael hushed her, turning to pull her into a hug. Her injuries had been treated, nothing more than some butterfly bandages on a few cuts on her face, and some pain meds, before she’d been let out from the nurses’ clutches. Or more accurately, let _herself_ out from their clutches. She’d even had a shower, at Hal’s insistence, wearing clothes not covered in blood.

Michael had dropped into this chair when they’d wheeled Tony and Ken into surgery and not left it since. He hadn't done more than strip off his tac vest.

There was still blood on his hands, Ken’s and Tony’s, flaking off in dark specks. 

He didn't want to dirty Sharon’s clean clothes, but she only curled closer, and Michael had never been one to reject someone needing a hug. He needed the hug just as much too. “I'm so proud of you. You did so well.”

Sharon shook her head, but didn't say any more, hiding her face away. Michael rubbed his cheek on her head and looked across the corridor almost in a daze.

Hal was on the phone, to Evie from the sounds of it, alternately updating her and seeking his own reassurance, his blond hair mussed and bags under his eyes. Trip was slumped tiredly next to him, eyes closed, the shield still on his knees from when Sharon had left it for her medical check up. They were in clean clothes too, feet in some hotel-like slippers.

Maybe Michael should go change.

“Where’s Carol?”

Trip chuckled, not moving, eyes still closed. “Standing guard.”

Michael was confused, he must have missed something since sitting down in a daze. Hal jerked his head to one side. At the end of the corridor, through the glass windows in the door, Michael could make out the back of Carol’s blonde head. He imagined on the other side were the rest of the Avengers - _were they still Avengers if they’d left?_ \- wanting to get through for news about Tony. 

“She need help?”

“Doubt it.”

 _Yeah_ , Michael had heard about Carol himself in the USAF, as well as whatever Tony had told him over the years - Tony always vague on details about how the two met - but he’d never had the chance to meet her personally before today. He couldn't have imagined a better stand-in for Rhodes in the mission though, she’d worked seamlessly with the whole team. 

Sharon sighed, “No news?”

“Nothing new.”

The door at the end of the corridor swung open, and Michael tensed automatically, but looked up to find it was the King of Wakanda himself, and a pair of his bodyguards. Michael forced himself to his feet with the others, nodding respectfully. 

“Your Majesty, we can’t thank you enough—”

T'Challa shook his head, “You are, of course, very welcome. But please, Mr Stark and Mr Dugan will be in surgery for some time yet. We have rooms available for you to use.”

“Oh, no,” Michael immediately shook his head. “I couldn't leave- leave them…”

But Hal was nodding. “Yes, thank you. Michael, you need to clean up, especially if you want to see the boys when they wake up. And Sharon needs to sleep.”

“Daddy—”

“You need to rest at least,” Hal said, shooting her a serious look. “We’ve all been through a lot in a short time. Us being here won’t change whatever happens in surgery. We have to trust they’re in good hands, and I do trust that.”

Sharon pouted, but didn't resist when Hal tugged her by the arm and they followed one of the bodyguards to the rooms T'Challa had offered them, the opposite way down the corridor from Carol. Trip hefted the shield in his arms and smiled sadly at Michael, following the other two.

Michael was left staring at his hands, willing his feet to move. 

Forward or back, just to move, but he couldn’t seem to decide where to go. His head told him forward, _go shower_ , clean up, rest, eat something, wait with the others for news. His heart told him to back, _sit_ , don't leave Tony and Ken, stay for them. And Michael was just so _tired_. 

A hand gently took him by the arm, mindful of the blood on his hands. 

“Come,” T'Challa said softly, guiding Michael forward after the others. “Rest. I will send someone if anything changes.”

Somehow, Michael managed to stagger forward with the King’s help.

* * *

Carol wasn't arrogant enough to think it was just down to her presence keeping the team of Avengers from barrelling past the doors at her back. She had no doubts the Dora Milaje standing beside her helped with that more than she did. They seemed much more alert and threatening than Carol right now, but she had them beat on pure will, because it wasn't just a guest she was protecting - Carol was protecting a friend.

Several new friends too, but Tony wasn't a new friend. And protecting him here also protected James across the sea. So, even though her hand was cramping from the grip on her gun, she didn't let go. Even though her back ached from standing at attention for so long, she didn't move. Even though the sweat and blood she hadn't managed to wipe off on the _Nautilus_ were making her skin itch, she didn't so much as twitch. 

No, Carol stood there, as she looked at the faces of the Avengers before her who still didn't seem to understand that she _was_ _not going to move_. 

Rogers heaved a deep sigh in front of her. 

His nose had been straightened once again, but there were dark smudges around his bridge and eyes left from the broken nose. He kept tilting his head either side, pointedly trying to see around Carol’s head, but she’d placed herself carefully. Her body was blocking the view of most of the glass panes of the doors at her back. Even a Super Soldier wasn't going to be able to see much. 

Not much more than a worrying family waiting for news on their loved ones anyway.

That was why it was Carol out here. Of all of them, she was still the least heavily invested in the group behind and in front. Not entirely objective, couldn't be, not involving Tony, but less likely to blow up in the Avengers’ faces at quite the speed Sharon had already started to show. _Less_ likely.

They were testing her patience though. 

“Ma’am—”

“It’s Colonel.”

Rogers blinked at her, “What?”

“You may address me as Colonel, or Danvers,” Carol said evenly. “Your choice, _Captain_.”

The man was not much taller than her, but she felt somehow he was managing to seem a much smaller man with his hunched shoulders. “Yes, I’m sorry. Colonel, would you mind just…”

“Just what?”

“If you could just…” Rogers scratched the back of his neck. Carol had never imagined Captain America being this awkward around her. She wondered if it was because of who’s group she was with. “Just let me past—”

“And I have told you and your group already, I'm not moving.”

He frowned, brows dropping and a muscle jumping in his jaw. Rogers opened his mouth again, to argue some more she imagined, but Carol cut him off. 

“Why do you want to get past?” She didn't give him time to answer. “What difference do you think it will make, you being any closer?”

“None, but—”

“Has it even crossed your mind what harm you being closer might do?”

Rogers seemed shocked by the idea. He was either very naive, or suffering tunnel-vision. “Harm?”

“No one behind me is very happy with you right now,” Carol said. “James kept us well informed on what had happened between you and Tony as we were en route to the Raft. You could be looking at that nose breaking again or worse. And even if they weren't angry, you don't have the right to demand information on Tony’s condition from them. They have more than just him to worry about this minute than placating you. It’s not just Tony in surgery.”

“I don't want to- I- he’s my friend—”

“Tony's my friend too, and he doesn't want to see you,” Carol flexed her hand at her hip. “I will _not_ move. Stop asking, the answer isn't going to change.”

Rogers’ nostrils flared and his broad chest puffed up, but Barnes pulled him away, pushing him down to sit on a chair like the rest of them. 

They were all sat in the official waiting area for the Palace’s personal medical wing, all except for Agent Romanov and Barton, who’d stopped by briefly before King T'Challa had called them away to talk. Well, he’d called Romanov away, and Barton had tagged along with her. The King had returned since, and Carol had let him past. 

The spy and the archer had not reappeared.

There was a noticeable space of several missing chairs at the end of the group. Those chairs that Carol had watched Hal and Michael carry through the doors earlier. _It would be nice to sit down_ , but she wouldn't give that show of weakness. Carol would have to move to get a chair, and she didn't doubt Rogers would take the chance to try for the doors if she did.

Stupid swinging door didn't even let Carol lean back, otherwise she’d fall on her ass.

“So…” it was the Falcon - Wilson - speaking this time. 

He had remained seated, not threatening Carol about pushing past, but she eyed him warily. James had told her that Wilson was one of the first to side with Rogers, one of the newest members of the Avengers. He hadn't labelled the man as one of Tony’s friends, but then again, James hadn't classed any of them by very complimentary terms. He was adorably protective like that, with that cute little frown of his, it had made Carol smile to listen.

“You’re friends with Stark - how long have you known him?”

Carol wasn't sure if it was a ploy or genuine curiosity, but Wilson’s expression was open enough to answer him. “Almost twenty years.”

His eyebrows lifted, and Wilson nodded. “You met through work?”

It was a good guess, but— “Not exactly.”

* * *

The view from the suite was beautiful.

Trip could easily imagine Ken swinging through the trees outside, like the crazy monkey he was, pretending to be Tarzan or something as he threw himself through the air with that insane grin on his face as he fell through the air, depending on nothing but his own body and skills to be able to catch him. It pulled a bittersweet smile to Trip’s face. 

He leaned his head against the cool window, nose nearly pressed to the glass. Tony would love it here too, but not for what was outside, but what was inside. Trip hadn't seen much of the country, but everyone knew that Wakanda was a technological pioneer and powerhouse. He could easily imagine Tony’s impressed and envious expression, the exact pout that would pull on Tony’s mouth, and the gleam in Tony’s eyes…

Behind him, Trip could hear Sharon pacing as she quietly talked on the phone to her Mom, voice rising and falling as she moved about the room. Hal had been sitting on the sofa in the living room of the suite when Trip had joined them, and he was still there, picking listlessly at several magazines and newspapers that had been left provided. The Captain America shield leaned against the end of the sofa, ignored by everyone, still stained with blood.  

Michael had disappeared into one of the bedrooms when he’d arrived and not reappeared since. Trip heard the shower turn on at some point, but that had stopped a while ago too.

He was obviously very worried, but it wasn't just worry, and Michael wasn't the only one.

“Has anyone—” Trip cleared his throat, turning his head a little, but not pulling away from the cool glass. “Has anyone told the others?”

He could just make out Hal shaking his head, “No, I don't think so. Other than Evie, but she would've killed me if I hadn’t… Rhodes was gonna tell Pepper, I think, since he was with us the whole time and she’ll want details. We should let the others know though.”

“They aren’t out of surgery.”

“But we succeeded in the rescue, and they're alive,” Hal shot a brief smile over his shoulder as Sharon walked past. “And Tony and Ken will be fine.”

Trip nodded, spine strengthening under Hal’s firm tone. He stepped back from the window and joined Hal on the sofa, bumping shoulders. “Okay, you pick then.”

Hal raised an eyebrow, “Pick?”

“You wanna go pull Michael outta his funk?” A small smirk pulled at Trip’s lips. “Or tell Bree that her little brother is in surgery?”

Hal’s shoulders slumped, but he pulled out his phone and started thumbing through the contacts. “Maybe Bree’s busy and Ellie will pick up?”

“Fat chance!” Trip crowed. “Both the girls will’ve been sitting around the phone this whole time, I bet anything on that.”

“Probably,” Hal nodded. “You’re better than me at cheering people up. You could make anyone smile.”

Trip grinned, slapping his knees as he stood up again, “We all have our superpowers.”

He watched Hal lift the smartphone to his ear, and wince at the volume of the voices that answered his call. “Hi- Bree, let me just- I was about to- can I- let me—”

_“Hal, you put this on video chat right now, let me see your face.”_

“Okay, just gimme a—”

_“Video. Now.”_

Trip turned away as Hal pulled the phone from his ear and held it in front of him. Bree and Eliza were gonna take one look at the man and know there wasn't all good news. But at least Sharon was still around, she might get them to calm down a little, if she finished talking to her Mom. The long wait for this call probably hadn't helped with their nerves.

Facing the closed bedroom door, Trip pulled back his shoulders and braced himself for wherever Michael’s head had taken him now.

* * *

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

Carol shrugged, still keeping an eye on Rogers while Wilson tried to strike up conversation. 

Call her paranoid, but she wasn't taking the chance that this was a distraction. She didn't know these people, and right now she didn't trust them. The Maximoff girl flinched at nothing as she tucked herself closer to Lang. Carol felt a surge of pity for the girl, apparently out of her depth, but she wasn't a child, and these people needed to face the real consequences of their actions eventually. 

James had told her that Maximoff had been quite coddled in the compound, he didn't even think anyone had told her about all the destruction that had been the final count after Ultron. She’d been mourning her dead brother, and the others couldn't find it in themselves to pile on more blame, and Tony had apparently gobbled up the guilt all by himself, since it was just lying around. _As usual_. It hadn't seemed like anyone had tried to stop him on the team either. The team he left anyway. James seemed to regret letting Tony go like that, but there was nothing to do about that, it was the past now.

“Tony and I have never worked together, officially,” Carol said. “James was the military liaison with Stark Industries. I knew James through work colleagues, and he introduced us for personal reasons, so, Tony and I didn't _exactly_ meet through work.”

“He made a good impression then,” Wilson offered with a small smile. 

Carol snorted. “Tony? Made an absolutely terrible, ridiculous first impression.” She turned her eyes down, away from their prying looks, smiling softly at her feet. “He grows on you.”

“And Rhodes?” Wilson pressed. “He’s still…”

“Still… what?” Carol raised a pointed eyebrow at him, “He’s carrying on. Vision was wheeling him off for a physio session last time he contacted us, to work off some of the stress now that we have Tony and Sharon back.”

Wilson’s face fell, “Right, sure.”

Carol looked at the man carefully, the taut way he held himself, the tension in his jaw at the mention of James, the strange look as he scrubbed at his face. “… Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Wilson said, shaking himself and pasting on a half-smile. “No official work together, you said. You and Stark. What about unofficially?”

“I'm sure you know where I work. James said he sent Agent Romanov the team specs,” Carol checked, and Wilson nodded. “After 2012, after New York, Tony was understandably concerned with our space defence capabilities, against another alien attack. He asked me to put him in contact with some people in the field, had some ideas to help with that.”

He seemed surprised, “He’s been worried about that for that long?”

“It didn't help that no one else seemed to be concerned about it, and then there were a lot of Earth-based disasters that took everyone’s attention, like the Hydra revival.” Carol shrugged, “It’s been slow going, global defence like he’s been proposing is still so new.”

Wilson shook his head, “And that on top of SI and the Avengers… How does Stark find the time to do all of that?”

“He barely sleeps,” Romanov said, coolly sliding back into the room, Barton a pale silent shadow at her heels. “There’s no other way even Tony could meet all his demands otherwise. He sleeps when he passes out.”

“Natasha,” Rogers' head lifted. “Where did you go?”

Romanov shared a look with Barton over her shoulder, before looking back at the Captain. “I was sending some intel to a contact of mine. They should be able to start looking for Skull while we wait on Stark.”

“A contact.” 

Rogers hadn't phrased it like a question, apparently expecting Romanov to fill in the blanks. He looked to be gearing up either to give a lecture or take the reins on whatever Romanov was planning. Carol nearly smiled at the dangerous flash in Romanov’s eyes as she faced Rogers. 

“Yes, Steve, _a contact_ ,” Romanov bit out. Barton shuffled on his feet behind her, avoiding the eyes of the others. “I’ve lost most of them, since the fall out, but I'm not entirely isolated.”

“And you can trust them? Do they know where we are? Natasha, how did you explain knowing about Skull or anything!”

“Well I didn't punch them,” Romanov snapped. Her face had shuttered closed as she looked down at Rogers in his chair, Wilson and Barnes bracketing him on either side. Blank and cold and restrained. “I used my words. And with some people it’s still enough, knowing it’s me doing the asking.”

Her chin lifted, and Romanov’s hands curled at her hips.

“You better not be questioning my trust, Steve. You won’t like it.”

“I wasn’t—”

“And I think I've already done more than enough to prove my loyalty to the team.”

Rogers deflated, dropping his head into his hands. “I know. I didn't mean…”

Agent Romanov looked him over carefully a while longer, but said nothing else. Eventually, she reached back and caught Barton by the wrist, leading him to a free chair and sitting him down. She gave him a smack to the head that was more loud than painful, and Barton managed a small smile, though Carol thought he still looked in shock or something. She wondered who their contact had been for a reaction like that. 

Then Romanov straightened up.

Carol locked eyes with sharp green ones, watching the redhead stop in front of her. “Can I help you with something, Agent Romanov?”

Romanov tipped her chin down slightly. She was shorter, smaller, softer looking than Carol’s lean body, but Carol knew how dangerous Romanov could be. “I'd like to see Stark.”

* * *

Michael lay curled up on the bed in the clean clothes T’Challa’s people had provided, but he wasn't asleep, he hadn't even closed his eyes, just stared fixedly out of the window in the dark room. He hadn't turned the lights on. Trip looked at his bare feet, and the whole picture felt very different from the Michael that was usually presented to everyone. 

Trip called his name, but got no response, and padded closer to the bed. 

The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge, reaching out a hesitant hand to Michael’s shoulder, even though the other man hadn't shown any signs of realising he had company.

“Michael,” Trip tried again, speaking softly in the quiet of the room. “Man, you with me?”

“M’fine,” Michael said, voice rough. “Just tired.”

“No way, if none of the rest of us can pull that shit, you can’t either,” Trip said, giving him a little shake with the hand on Michael’s shoulder. “It’s okay if you aren’t, but don't lie to me about it. It’s _me -_ it’s _us_.”

Trip watched Michael shut his eyes, a tear squeezing out, and squeezing Trip’s heart in the process. He shuffled closer and held tighter to Michael’s shoulder.

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“… Almost lost them.”

“We didn’t,” Trip said. “Ken caught Tony, and you caught Ken. And Sharon was her badass self, and we got them all out. Everyone’s here. We’re safe.”

“But we _almost_ —”

“No,” Trip stopped him. He leaned closer and used the end of his sleeve to wipe dry the corners of Michael’s eyes. “You don’t need to do that. No ‘what if’s.”

“I just lost Mom.”

Trip felt cold at the reminder. He wondered if Michael had listened properly to Rhodes’ sit rep on the _Nautilus_ , about the circumstances around Peggy’s… he hadn't reacted much at the time, Trip remembered, but Michael had been so focused on getting Tony and Sharon out, it made sense that he’d pushed it to one side until after the rescue. Trip couldn't imagine how Michael was feeling.

Not that he hadn't lost a parent. 

He’d lost his Dad before he ever learned he was missing one, all that was left behind was a name and the memories his Ma shared. But Trip hadn't really felt it as a _loss_. More like he was missing out on something, if anything, but never for very long. There was always someone around to fill in that gap in one way or another. Trip didn't have a Dad, but his family more than made up for that.

He never missed out on a Dad cheering for him at graduation, because there’d always been a crowd of people cheering just for him, even if some of them covered up behind sunglasses and ballcaps. He’d never missed out on a Dad when he wanted a guy’s dating advice, he’d actually had too much advice, from just about every guy he knew. He’d never missed out on a Dad coaching his Little League, or sharing his first beer, or any other special moment, because his Ma had been there for every step and loved him so much Trip had never missed anything.

If _he’d_ lost _his_ Ma…

And it was still so raw. They’d only put Peggy to rest a few days ago. This whole everything had happened so quickly. Michael had lost so many of his family already, to hear that it was Tony and Sharon had been taken on the tail end of the funeral, and by Red Skull…

Trip curled over Michael in a hug, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight. 

“We got ‘em,” Trip said, voice firm, but throat tight from tears when he thought of his Aunt Peggy, gone to join Uncle Danny and their Mary, and his own Dad and Pop-Pop now. 

“Nearly didn’t.”

“But we did.”

Michael shook with a sob, and Trip wanted to wrap him up entirely but Michael had always been bigger, a great big brother to everyone, solid as a mountain. So Trip just held on as much as he could. 

“You’ll see, Tony will be riling up the nurses as soon as he’s awake, itching to leave even straight after surgery, and Ken’ll be cheering along as always, the maniac,” Trip said, smiling a little at the image. “And we’ll be here to catch Tony when he keels over because he’s more tired than he’ll ever admit, and we’ll be here to tell Ken to shut up and rest too, and we’ll be here all of us together. We’ll be okay.”

Trip felt Michael nod, jerkily and with a big wet sniff, but he also wrapped Trip in his arms for a proper hug and that was better. “I miss my Mom.”

“I miss her too.”

* * *

Sharon tossed the phone nervously between her hands. She’d finished talking to her Mom, at least as much as she could, until she had a little more privacy and a much clearer head. Just her voice had been soothing though. Her Dad was sat beside her, leaning against Sharon shoulder to knee, blond hair tangling with hers as she tucked her head against his jaw. 

Trip had emerged a little while ago, towing Michael behind him, both with red eyes. He’d led them to the windows, and they were still sat there staring out at the scenery, Trip pointing at things now and then, voices a soft murmur. The sun was making the sky bleed purple and pink streaks. The way they sat together against the backdrop made them look both younger and older.

It was quiet.

Sharon hated this sort of waiting. 

It came to mind to press her Dad about what he and Mom did, what with him promising to reveal all at last now. But not everyone was here, and Sharon didn't think her head was in the right frame to take in any new surprises now. Not with all her nerves about Tony and Ken’s surgeries. The tension in the room wasn't suffocating, but it was thick in the air, a heavy presence weighing down on them all. 

Too tired to even sleep, Sharon stayed in a sort of half-doze against her Dad, looking now and then to the little phone screen he’d propped up on the coffee table, screen rolling with all sorts of updates via FRIDAY while she waited with them.

 _Waiting_.

The door to the suite opened, and Sharon hadn't even realised she’d leapt to her feet before she was already standing. She wasn't the only one.

Carol stepped through the door with a sigh, tilting her head over each shoulder with a loud _crack_ and shaking out her hands. She stopped and blinked at all the attention turned on her. “What?”

“Weren’t you guarding the corridor?” Hal asked.

“Agent Romanov offered to fill in for me while I took a break,” Carol said, stretching her arms over her head, before unbuckling her holster belt and stripping off her tac vest. “I doubt any of that lot will get by her. Or the Dora Milaje still there. She wanted to see Tony after, so I agreed.”

Hal nodded, “Rogers and his friends still trying to get past you?”

Carol nodded, yawning as she took a seat at the small kitchenette. Michael took the chance to fuss over someone, Sharon supposed, and started rifling through the cupboards and fridge for something filling for them to eat. In the mean time, Carol helped herself to some of the fruit on the counter. They all migrated to the kitchenette.

“Tell me there’s coffee.”

Trip bustled past Carol and started the coffee machine. No one was going to sleep likely, they were  all gonna need it. Hal pulled out mugs and plates, helping Michael dish out several well-filled sandwiches that had been provided for them. Sharon snatched up a small sandwich, nibbling it half-heartedly, not really hungry.

The company around the counter was doing more to settle her stomach than anything.

Carol and Trip started stuffing their faces though, while Michael took over pouring the coffee. With a warm mug in her hand, Sharon looked around the counter at the faces around her and felt a little stronger for the fondness that shot through her as she watched them. The little shoulder taps her Dad kept nudging on Michael until he chuffed with a half-smile. The smear of mayonnaise on the corner of Trip’s mouth. Carol’s happy sigh with her first sip of coffee. 

They were still waiting, but at least Sharon wasn't waiting alone. 

* * *

“Mr Stark?”

“Mmmm…”

“You remember who I am?”

“… Dr Dana…”

“That’s right.” Tony tried to smile back at the happy face above his, but his face felt strangely heavy. “Don’t worry if you feel a little woozy, you're coming off the anaesthetic.”

“Right.”

“The surgery went well. I’ll tell you more when you're more awake.”

“Sharon…?”

“She’s fine, and Mr Dugan’s still in surgery, but it’s all going well I'm told.”

“Thanks… thank you…”

“You’re very welcome. You just relax. Don't worry if you drift off.”

Tony let his eyes close again, confident that the next time they opened he was liable to be fairly surrounded with much loved faces all around. And he was quite looking forward to it.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony had been awake less than five minutes and had already attempted to break out of the cast on his arm no less than three times. Attempted being the key word, because his success was mostly impeded by the fact that he was in a lot of pain, his head was woozy, his limbs weren't quite moving under instruction, and fingernails weren't really strong enough to tear through plaster-cast. 

Also because Dana kept stopping him. 

Her hand gently pulled his right hand away from the cast again, and before Tony could protest, those little black veins snaked up her hand and most of Tony’s pain dulled. “Thanks.”

“Please leave your arm alone,” Dana huffed, but she said it with a half-smile, which Tony thought meant she was becoming fond of him despite herself. He was used to that. Had seen that a lot in the early days with Pepper. He’d kind of missed that expression, didn't really have time to make new friends with no obligations to him lately. “I’ve worked very hard on fixing it, and I will be very cross if you mess it up.”

“Very cross?” Tony snickered.

“I'm trying to maintain some professionalism.”

Tony shook his head, “No need for that. You’ve had your hands inside of me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I should repay the favour?”

Dana snorted so hard her head snapped back a little, and Tony was a little offended. “Oh yes, just-out-of-surgery is the look that really works for me.”

Glancing down at himself, Tony conceded Dana’s point. His hair felt grainy in that way that meant it had reached past the greasy stage of unwashed, he smelled of bleach and antiseptic and _hospital_ , and he was stuck in a bed with several monitors attached to various parts of himself. Wasn’t his best look, but he was sure he wore it well enough. 

He shrugged with a smile that felt lopsided, that little bit of banter enough to wear him out, _or was it that pain-drain thing?_ Dana just smiled gently at him, “Hal said you could flirt like breathing, so I hope that means you’re well enough for some visitors now?”

Tony perked up a little, dragging himself out from under the pull of sleep. “Visitors, yes, please, are they—”

“Everyone’s fine,” Dana assured him, squeezing his hand. She tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “If you can manage to stay awake another two full minutes, I’ll go get them. You’ve woken up a couple times, but not this coherently.”

“I have?” Tony frowned. “I don't remember.”

“No, I think it’s a little reaction to the… pain-relief I'm giving you since the surgery. Hal said you’d want to avoid medication when necessary.”

“And this…” Tony looked down at her hand on his. “Makes me… sleepy?”

“A little, it’s a minor side effect just from the amount of pain I'm taking away. You were under proper anaesthesia in surgery - I needed both hands for that - but I've been easing you off the pain since.” Dana smiled, “Ninety seconds, Mr Stark, and I’ll call in your family.”

“Can call me Tony, y’know?” Tony blinked rapidly, determined to keep awake. 

“Tony, then,” Dana said.

His eyelids were temptingly dark and heavy when they closed, but Tony kept opening them, had to stay awake. Just another minute. He could do another minute.

* * *

Natasha crossed her arms, eyes on the doors on the opposite side of the waiting room. There had been an increase of activity, a few groups of people darting back and forth, in the last few minutes. She wondered what had happened, or what was happening. Natasha wasn't the only one to notice either. 

Sam had his eyes trained on the doors. Barnes too. Steve still had his head in his hands, but Natasha didn't doubt he’d picked up on the sounds of activity too. 

Clint… Natasha was regretting just a little letting Clint tag along earlier when she’d called her contact, but he’d insisted. He was still a little in shock now, gazing unseeingly at his feet. 

There wasn't much to do since Danvers had left her in charge of guarding the door at her back. None of the team were challenging Natasha as they had done Danvers, and Natasha didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or not. It would have been a little less boring at least if they had, but T'Challa probably wouldn't appreciate any more property damage, especially in the medical wing. 

And Natasha wasn't going to risk her chance of seeing Tony. It still wasn't guaranteed, Danvers parting words only promising not to stand in the way if Tony wanted to see her, but it was a chance nonetheless and Natasha had risked a lot more for a lot less. 

T'Challa hadn't reappeared, but his sister came striding through the doors at Natasha’s back soon enough. Princess Shuri took in the room, the corner of her lips quirking briefly, before turning to Natasha. 

“There is no need to stand before these doors anymore,” Shuri said quietly. “Both patients have been moved elsewhere.”

“They’re fine?”

Shuri nodded. “Mr Dugan is still unconscious but stable. I am to check in on Mr Stark next, to get an update for my brother on his condition.”

Natasha’s hands jerked as she bit back more questions. _Frustrating_ , such a physical tell, perhaps she was more compromised than she’d thought. Natasha consciously loosened her shoulders as she nodded, stepping to one side to allow Shuri forward to address the others in the waiting room. Steve’s head had lifted by now, and Natasha wondered if he’d heard their exchange with his enhanced hearing. She wouldn't put it past him. Barnes too. They were all watching the princess with anticipation.

“The surgeries were successful,” Shuri said simply. “My brother asks that you return to your rooms now.”

She said ‘asks’, but there was no chance of arguing in her voice, no room for questions, and Sam tugged and pushed Steve out of the other door before he could do more than just pout and frown. Scott guided Wanda out after them, the girl keeping her head ducked and eyes on the floor. Bucky was last, casting storm grey eyes over Natasha and the princess, before going after the others. 

Clint stayed behind. 

His jaw was tight, shoulders hunched and hands clenching and unclenching - _imagining his bow_ \- again and again as his eyes darted between the two women, waiting for some sort of sign from either one. After years with SHIELD he’d become looser with his tells, used more as a sniper than undercover like Natasha, who’d played front-and-centre and always had to stay aware of her every twitch and fidget. It was easier to drop the walls around his tells when Clint was always working from a distance. 

Shuri looked back at him impassively. 

Natasha finally voiced the question she’d held back, not letting herself hope, straightening her back. “Can I go with you? I’d like to know if I'm allowed to see Stark.”

The princess didn't move her dark eyes from Clint. “Will your friend be coming also?”

He turned wide blue eyes on Natasha, and she knew her answer. “Yes.”

She wanted to see Tony, but she couldn't leave Clint alone right now, he needed her too. Natasha wasn't going to be choosing one over the other. Clint would stay with her, and she’d wait as long as it took for Tony to ask for her. Both men were important to her. 

Shuri sized him up again, Clint becoming incredibly still under her inspection, keeping his eyes on Natasha.

“You won’t push,” Shuri eventually said, that same command in her voice. “And you won’t be allowed in the room should Mr Stark ask to see Agent Romanov.”

Clint nodded.

“If your presence is in any way negative to the patients or their visitors, you will be asked to leave, Agent Barton, and you will do so,” Shuri continued. “Even if that means Agent Romanov is to leave with you, if you are still unwilling to be separated.”

“I understand,” Clint said.

Shuri nodded sharply, and led the way out of the room. Natasha matched her pace, and Clint was a step behind. He looped a finger around her pinky, and she lifted her chin.

* * *

“This bed is not gonna hold.”

“Don't be so negative, Dad.”

Her piece said, Sharon tucked her head back in the crook of Tony’s neck, snuggling closer. He wrapped his good arm around her and pressed a drowsy kiss to her hair. 

Michael was curled on Tony’s other side, barely hanging on the edge of the bed so he didn't knock into Tony’s arm cast and fussing ineffectually with the blankets since there were too many people on top of the blankets to move them, and nobody was going to get up. Trip completed the picture, sitting cross-legged at the bottom of the bed, alternating which ankle he was squeezing.

The bed had squeaked alarmingly when he’d joined in, but no one had stopped him. Not even Hal, standing behind Sharon, a hand on her back helping her stay on the bed despite his apparently negative comments. He shared a look with Carol beside him, and Tony shot them a pleased grin.

He was still feeling the effects of Dana’s pain relief, and currently in the middle of a careful cuddle pile which - while pressing against some sore and tender parts of his body, sure - was also warm and full of his family, so Tony was currently very happy with the situation.

“If the bed breaks—”

“Tony, are you up for a quick hello to James?” Carol asked, thumb swiping across her smartphone. “FRIDAY told him you were out of surgery, but he’s being…”

“Put him on! Put him on!” Tony said, wiggling a little on the bed.

“Seriously, there are too many of you on the—”

Carol nudged Hal to one side as she held the phone over Tony’s face, the video chat connecting in moments, and Rhodey’s frowning face filling the screen. 

“Honeybear!” Tony beamed.

Rhodey’s frowned lessened, and a smile even flickered around his mouth. _“Hey, Tones.”_

“Lookit my harem, all mine, such beautiful people,” Tony said proudly, grinning wide at the groans that pulled from everyone in the room. 

 _“Making it weird again,”_ Rhodey shook his head, waving on screen. _“Hey, Sharon. You okay, kid?”_

“I will be,” Sharon nodded. “Thanks. For… thanks.”

“Everything okay on your end?” Tony asked.

Rhodey shrugged, looking at something offscreen briefly. _“Viz isn't letting me do much right now. Apparently stress is ‘detrimental to the rate of human healing’. Pepper says hi - I think.”_ He frowned again. _“She seemed kinda mad about something when I called her, before I even told her about what happened to you.”_

“What?” Tony blinked. “S’it the board? She okay?”

 _“She seemed fine, just…”_ Rhodey shrugged. _“A little glowy, you know?”_

Tony started working himself up into a worry over Pepper, wondering what it was that was affecting her so much to be _glowy_ \- the board were frustrating at the best of times, but she’d mastered them years ago; Tony was no longer missing, and if not hale then whole at least, not even the worst injured she’d seen him, it couldn't be him; there was the chance that the UN or Ross’s people might be putting questions to her in his absence, but Pepper could handle them too, he knew that. 

He was giving himself a headache thinking of those things right now. The kind of headache he only ever got at the end of a four-day work binge when there was a problem niggling at him on the edge of sleep, because Tony was still feeling sleepy. The warm bodies around him were only making him sleepier. 

“Never mind that,” Sharon piped up, easily reading the crease on his brow and determined to be rid of it. “Rhodes, didn't you think Carol was wonderful? It’s like she’s worked with us all along. You should bring her to the next get-together.”

Rhodey’s jaw didn't seem to know whether to snap shut or drop open, and Carol’s cheeks turned a pale pink, and Tony was reminded again why he loved Sharon so much. 

“Oh yeah, I think Carol deserves a night at _Loretta’s_ ,” Tony piped up. “I’ll arrange everything.”

_“Tones.”_

“Wear something nice. You too, Carol.”

_“Tony!”_

“Not military-nice either, sugarplum, sexy-nice. Where’re those tight jeans I got you?”

Rhodey was covering his face with one hand, and Sharon was shaking with laughter against Tony’s side. _“Man, this is why everyone thought I was more than just the SI liaison.”_

“You saying people thought we used to… _liaise_?” The wiggle of his eyebrows made Trip snigger and Michael roll his eyes.

Tony knew he must look ridiculous as he was, but he couldn't care, not if it was making those around him smile right now.

So he was hurt, what was new? He didn't want them feeling bad about him right now, because if they felt bad, he’d feel bad, and if Tony felt bad he’d think about what had caused it, and if he thought about it too much he wasn't going to be able to _breathe_ …

_“You know they did! You practically told everyone we… you know!”_

“Starting to hurt my feelings, Cracker Jack,” Tony pouted at the screen. He turned to Carol, who was smiling wide no matter how hard she bit her lip. “He is an A-plus snuggler, Carol, just, if you're feeling blue, I cannot recommend him enough—”

 _“Okay!”_ Rhodey squawked. _“I'm glad you're feeling up to making fun of me.”_

“Never. I'm just impatient about seeing you two finally together.”

Rhodey flinched on screen, and Tony zeroed in on his friend’s face, suddenly entirely focused and serious. When he spoke, he sounded miserable, but his words were clipped. _“I- I think some circumstances have changed, Tones. I don't know who’d really want…”_

His eyes darted down offscreen, and something clenched tight in Tony’s chest as he pictured what Rhodey was staring at. _His fault_. Legs. _His fault_. Parts of him that weren't responding. _You put Rhodey in a wheelchair_. Like that made him any less one of the best men Tony knew!

Carol seemed to get what he was talking about too, and pulled the phone away to speak to Rhodey alone, frowning sternly at the screen as she moved away from the bed. 

The lighter atmosphere vanished, as did most of Tony’s energy again. 

Michael pressed a kiss to the side of his head though, and Trip patted his feet. They were still here.

The door to the private room slid open, and Dana appeared in the doorway. “Tony, Princess Shuri has brought Agent Romanov. Do you want to see her?”

* * *

Natasha stood arms folded, waiting again. Clint slumped against a wall, making himself comfortable. He wasn't going to be moving even if Princess Shuri came through saying Tony was okay to see Natasha. They’d be separate, but not to the distance with the others, not so far out of sight. Out of sight, not out of reach. Enough to comfort Clint. 

She took her time waiting to observe Stark’s doctor - Dana Grace. She was deliberately unobtrusive where she stood by the small nurses’ station, talking with the princess in borrowed scrubs, typing one-handed on the tablet in her hand. Natasha didn't know what to make of how comfortable Dr Grace appeared in an utterly new environment. Perhaps she was used to working in unfamiliar settings on the regular, with new people every day, new strangers to save, new equipment to work with.

Perhaps Natasha was thinking of a different doctor altogether.

 _Focus_ , Dr Grace was average in height, not slim but athletic, surprisingly strong from what action Natasha had seen on the Raft. Her hair was short, not cropped short like Danvers, but to her chin, dark locks curving around her ear. And there was something about her eyes… When Natasha watched the doctor and the princess, she could almost imagine it was two predators sizing each other up, eyes and body language shifting unconsciously as they spoke. There was something  _other_ behind Dr Grace’s eyes.

“How did you know?”

Clint’s question broke Natasha’s stream of thought, though she didn't turn her eyes from Dr Grace and the princess. Only after Shuri was fully updated would she go on to ask Dr Grace about Natasha seeing Tony. 

Natasha had to be patient a little longer.

“How did I know what?”

“To trust Stark,” Clint said. His head was still ducked, every nonchalant line of his body against the wall carefully constructed. “How did you know? If he hadn't managed to talk to you before. I didn’t… I didn't think you were that close.”

“We’re not,” Natasha said. “Not that close. But, we’re closer than we were before.”

“So tell me,” Clint pressed. “Tell me what I missed. Where I… where I messed up.”

“You messed up the moment Pietro died saving you,” Natasha said bluntly, and Clint flinched in the corner of her eyes. “Your guilt has blinded you since, you indebted yourself to Wanda, whatever her wrongs. But you weren't the only one on the team to do that, or the only one to mess up with Stark.”

“Tell me, then. Explain.”

Natasha closed her eyes. 

“Tell me what Stark did. What made you see past all his masks and _trust_ him?”

She huffed, “I don't know if I’ll ever see past all his masks, if Stark will ever let me in that deep. For as far as we’ve come, there are still bumps in our history that keep him holding back. Maybe now… But for all that I didn't know the core of Stark, who he was, I still knew enough about him to know who he _wasn’t_ , what he absolutely _would not_ agree to.”

Clint shifted on his feet, soles of his shoes creaking on the floor. “Ross.”

Natasha nodded. 

“But he did,” Clint said, but his voice wasn't accusing. His voice was the one Natasha heard in old debriefs, when he talked back over his mistakes with… when he was digging to the root of a mistake he wanted to not happen again, when Clint wanted to understand all angles to see more clearly. “Steve said he agreed with Ross, about us needing accountability. Oversight.”

“And maybe we do,” Natasha shrugged. “But the way Ross was dealing it to us, how he was using the Accords? There was no way Stark would've agreed to that. Not least because of what that man had done to Bruce.”

Clint was staring at her, she could feel his eyes on her face. She kept her eyes closed.

“And… he was scared,” Natasha said softly. “I’d only seen him scared like that back when I first met him. Stark doesn't scare easy, and he really is a genius. If he was asking us to sign, he’d have a good reason. If not for our benefit, then for the benefit of those he does love. Stark would’ve exhausted every other possibility, every other way to go it alone. To be asking for help like that? Support? It was serious.”

“So you didn't trust him when you signed your name.”

“No,” she admitted. “I signed it anyway.”

“Keep your friends close…”

Natasha smiled a little. “More like ‘better the devil you know’. A controlled fall.”

Clint chuffed, “And then he told you.”

“He let me find out.”

“You think he trusts you now?”

Natasha clenched her hand, pressing down hard against the back of her fingers, feeling her pulse throb in her fist. The key Tony had handed to her was thrumming through her veins. One of two in the world, _and wasn't that an amazing thought_. Proof, almost, of what she'd thought was an impossibility. “I think he trusts me more than he did before.”

“Enough to see you?”

She opened her eyes to see Princess Shuri beckoning her over, Dr Grace walking away from the nurses’ station and to one of the patient rooms. “I hope so,” Natasha said, as she went to join the princess.

* * *

Tony flailed a little on the bed with what parts of him were free, which was just his left foot and his head, and his foot was still trapped beneath the blanket and his head was heavy with exhaustion. Still, he sort of squirmed on the bed enough to get Dana’s attention as he nodded.

“Yes,” Tony nodded again more firmly. “Yes, I wanna see her.”

“Don’t overexert yourself,” Dana warned. “You’re just out of surgery, and I cannot stress enough how much you need rest right now.”

He could almost physically feel Michael puff up with the urge to wrap him in cotton and hide him away in a hug, Tony was very used to that feeling. And right now he was feeling it in stereo with Sharon on the other side, that adorable scowl already working its way across her forehead. 

“You can see her later if you really want—”

“No, I want to see her now,” Tony insisted. “Just quickly. I promise. Then I’ll rest, I’ll be good, doc, I swear!”

“Tony…” Trip was frowning from his feet. “I know she helped with the rescue, but Romanov left you and followed Captain America to Wakanda. Are you sure you want to see her?”

“She’s here because I asked - told - her to be,” Tony said, meeting Trip’s eyes. “I want to see her. Now.”

Trip looked at him carefully for long minutes, no one else interrupting, before he finally nodded. He twisted around to push off the bed. “Okay,” he said simply. “I’ll let her know on my way out.”

“You’re leaving?” Tony said suddenly, all too aware of how small he sounded staring after Trip like that.

“I'm just gonna go sit with Ken,” Trip hurried to explain, reaching back down to grip Tony by the ankle. “Didn't want him to wake up alone or anything. He’s still unconscious, isn't he?”

Dana nodded, and Tony felt something in him relax a little. _Of course Trip wasn't leaving him_. “Ken’s okay?”

“He’s fine,” Dana assured him. “But yes, I'm sure he’d like some company when he wakes up.”

Trip smiled gently at the genius, eyes sweeping around the bed. “I don't think I can pry those three from your side, but I'm happy to sit with Ken ’til he wakes. I’ll probably just nap until then, I'm beat, and there’s no more space on this bed.”

Looking around at the faces surrounding his bed, Tony noted the bags under their eyes, the strain in their jaws as they bit back yawns, the way their bodies slouched on the bed and off. They’d probably stayed up the whole time he was in surgery, _after_ that intense rescue mission, _and_ the whole trip here. They were all no doubt exhausted. Hell, Carol hadn't even changed out of her clothes yet, for some reason, a smear of blood near the collar of her undershirt.

A small, selfish part of Tony wanted to beg them all to just _stay_ , just stay where he could see them, just stay with Tony. But the bigger part of him wanted them to rest, wanted them to be taken care of too. 

He jerked his head to Carol in the corner, still speaking quietly on the phone to Rhodey. “Take Carol with you,” he said to Trip. “She can clean up while you wait around for Ken. I bet she stinks.”

“Not as much as you,” Carol shot back without any bite, but she was moving to Trip’s side anyway. 

Dana nodded, “I’ll see about getting some cots in here. All of you should rest.”

Hal rolled his eyes at her, “And you? You’ve been up as long as we have.”

“I’ll sleep when my patients are clear,” Dana said.

“Help me up,” Tony grunted, bruised abdomen protesting when he tried to sit up by himself. “I wanna sit up when Nat gets here.”

Michael was spluttering protests, “She _literally_ just told all of us to _rest_!” but his hands were gentle as he helped lift Tony from the bed. Tony only swayed a little, grimacing from a little jostle to his bad arm. 

Dana was already stepping forward, hand reaching for his. “Here, I’ll take a little more pain. That’ll keep the meeting short.”

Tony whined, both from thick muted feeling of relief at the pain-drain, and at Dana thwarting his plans of a longer meeting with Natasha. He was sure he’d catch his second wind when the redhead appeared, but the black veins disappearing up Dana’s arms felt like they were drawing away his energy too. His eyes were half-lidded because that was as open as Tony could get them.

Sharon was watching Dana’s hand on his, blinking very carefully. “Don’t think I've forgotten about that talk you promised us, Dad.”

Hal only nodded.

When Dana deemed Tony adequately relieved of pain, she patted his hand and turned to leave the room. Carol ruffled his hair, and Tony blew smacking kisses to Rhodey over the phone before she followed after the doctor. Trip pulled him into a loose hug, “Promise you’ll rest. Don’t fight sleep this time, Tony.”

“I promise,” Tony agreed, not sure he was even capable of stopping sleep at this point. 

He shot a final smile at them, before heading out of the room too. 

Tony shuffled on the bed, moving and turning and fighting his way out from under the blankets until he was sat on the edge, legs dangling and bare except for some socks someone had put on his feet. It took longer than he liked to keep all the wires and tubes attached to him from tangling.

He ended up leaning heavily against Michael on his left side. Behind him, Hal had pressed Sharon to lie down, shushing his daughter and humming softly to her. Tony thought she was probably half-asleep, and that was good. He’d join her very soon, he could feel sleep dragging him down. For now he focused on the shut door across the room.

* * *

Natasha took a deep breath as she faced the door, hand on the handle. Triplett and Danvers had said she was free to go in, Tony waiting eager to see her. Dr Grace had warned her to keep the visit short, to not keep her patient up too long. Princess Shuri had left to update her brother. Clint had shot her a half-smile as he waited, still leaning on the wall further back down the hallway. 

Still, she couldn't seem to quite make herself open the door. She hadn't really believed that Tony would want to see her. Not so soon. And yet, here she was.

She wasn't sure how she felt about the tremor in her fingers.

It was stupid, she had nothing to fear in that room. Natasha had faced much worse a lot more often than whatever was behind that door. But it wasn't really fear she could feel flooding through her. 

As soon as she pushed herself forward and opened the door, Natasha realised what she felt was more like anger. _Fury_. Outrage. She could feel the fierce scowl on her face, she didn't need to see how Sousa and Carter stiffened at her appearance. Tony remained remarkably unaffected, because of course he did.

“Stark,” she growled, storming into the room toward the bed.

Tony smiled at her, and her steps faltered briefly.

“If you _ever_ do anything like that again,” Natasha snapped out, keeping her fists clenched and her glare deadly. “If you even _think_ of telling me to go like that, to—”

Tony reached out with his good hand and drew her closer. 

“-to leave you like that—”

Natasha nearly stumbled when Tony tugged on her, pulling her into the gap between his thighs.

“-in some sort of _idiotic_ plan to go it alone—”

Her breath hitched when Tony’s arm curled around her.

“-with no exit strategy, no back up, no—”

He was hugging her, Natasha realised. Tony was hugging her. Hooking his chin over her shoulder and hugging her, _that bastard_ , she was still angry with him goddamnit, that was the emotion burning through her.

“-no nothing except a stupid on-the-fly _hope_ of outmanoeuvring players you're not even sure of—”

“Thank you.”

The words were soft, gentle in her ear.

Natasha didn't know why they seemed to hit so hard.

Tony dug his chin into her shoulder, his beard just catching above the neck of her shirt. “Thank you.”

Natasha sucked in a breath, throat clogged with what she was _sure_ were more angry words. She didn't know why Carter was looking at her with a softer expression on his face. He was running a hand through Sharon’s hair, his daughter asleep now. 

Tony rested his heavy _stupid_ head against her ear, and Natasha could feel his hair tangling with hers. 

“I should smack you,” she pushed on, determined. “For ever doing something so _stupid_ —”

He hummed and she could feel the sound, vibrating across the thin skin of her neck. His weight grew heavier against her, and Natasha was forced to wrap an arm around him to stop him slipping from the bed, that was the reason why she moved her arms. 

“Next time you get such a ridiculous idea, I'm gonna tie you up just to keep you out of trouble—”

Sousa whispered her name over Tony’s head.

Natasha tilted her head slightly to see him, but stopped when a quiet snore broke out between them, completely derailing the rest of her words.

She leaned back a little and gaped when she saw that Tony’s eyes were closed, and his arm was still around her waist, and _Tony had fallen asleep in her arms_. 

Her throat closed up even tighter, and so did her arms.

Natasha didn't appreciate the gentle looks both men were shooting her. She was _angry_ with Tony, and if he thought falling asleep on her would save him from the rest of her rant, he was very much mistaken. Just wait until he woke up again!

Because maybe he’d better appreciate the rant after some sleep. 

With her arms still around him, Natasha gently lowered Tony onto the bed, careful of the various monitors he was attached to and not waking him as he was laid next to Sharon. Sousa picked up Tony’s feet and tucking him back under a blanket that the men spread over the pair asleep on the bed. 

It took a good minute before Natasha could bring herself to slip her arms free. Neither of the men hurried her though, kindly focused on straightening out the blanket and wires with excessive attention as she composed herself, rearranging the scowl on her face. 

“ _Идиот_ ,” Natasha hissed at Tony’s sleeping face, glaring at her own hands as they brushed back a stray curl from his face. 

Tony only snored again, pressing his face into her hands.

Natasha admitted to herself that maybe it wasn't all anger that was choking her throat and her heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been like a month, I got really busy and really stuck on this chapter :P
> 
> Still not entirely happy, it feels too choppy, but so be it...

_THWACK!_

The bag swung wildly under the impact of his fist, and Steve had to remind himself to pull his punches a bit more. These weren't like the bags back in the compound, designed specially to withstand his strength.

Steve wasn't sure what to do with himself. Everything he did seemed to be wrong in some way, and he realised that, but mostly after the fact these days, which only made him feel the need to make up for it harder, which usually meant he wasn’t thinking straight when he acted. 

He was playing catch up against his past self, and he was _damn fast_. 

_THWACK!_

Honestly, Steve could punch his past self. A lot. If other people didn't seem to be doing that already. A lot. His face still throbbed from when Sharon had thrown the shield at him that second time, though the bleeding had long stopped, the shame hadn't faded nearly so quickly. 

His nose had still been dripping blood as he stood outside the palace, staring down at the red beading down the scratched vibranium surface with Bucky standing at his back, when Sharon had stormed out again. She’d snatched the shield back with a growl, and Steve hadn't fought her on it, he didn't think he had it in him, even when Sharon had handed it to Triplett almost immediately, as though she couldn't stand to hold the shield more than she had to. 

_THWACK!_

Steve hadn't felt so small in years.

He just kept making mistakes.

That _had_ to change.

Steve didn't want to keep hurting people like he had. Keep hurting _Tony_ like he had.

_THWACK!_

A hand prodded him in the side, startling Steve away from the punching bag, his arm shooting out reflexively. Sam dodged, looking pleased at his own improving reflexes, and Steve felt a little tug at his own face despite himself. 

“Need to spar?”

“You offering?” Steve asked, glancing down at the wraps around his knuckles. They were still entirely white, he hadn't even broken a sweat. Managing his strength against these standard punching bags was a good exercise in control, but it wasn't doing anything in helping Steve let off steam. A spar would be nice, but Steve didn't know if his temper would wind up hurting someone else right now, and he didn't want that. “Because I remember you swearing ‘never again’ or something like that the last time.”

“You’re losing your hearing, old man.”

“Super soldier.”

“Super _old_ , maybe.”

Steve huffed, but with a small smile. “Natasha back yet?”

“Nah,” Sam shook his head. “I think she’s gonna be a while though. Don’t you?”

Steve shrugged, rolling his shoulders forward to hunch up again, flexing his fingers. He missed his punching bag. 

“Clint’s with her,” Sam said. “They’ll be okay.”

“D’you think they’ll come back?”

“Yeah, man, they’ll be back. No one’s leaving anyone.”

“Not again, you mean,” Steve sighed, scrubbing his hands over his head, the tape on his knuckles catching at his hair a little. “Not like I left Tony.”

Sam sighed, a great big lungful of air, shoulders slumping as he let it out. He shuffled around to hold the punching bag steady. It offered a little stronger resistance to Steve’s hits, but he still wasn't willing to let loose, not if Sam risked being hurt from it.

_THWACK!_

A quiet chuckle broke the repetitive thuds once Steve got into the swing of things again, but it was anything but happy, a sorry excuse of a laugh from Sam. It sounded like it was torn from him, ripped out, ripped away.

“Steve, you weren't the only one who left people behind in this,” Sam said, voice as steady and serious he was holding the punching bag. “We left Rhodes and Vision too, they're still out there alone facing the fallout we _all_ left. But yeah, Stark really got the short end here.”

Steve had to stop, hands falling to hang by his hips, the tape squeaking as he curled his fingers.  

From the corner of his eye, he could still see Bucky on the mats on the other side of the small gym, breathing sharply as he did push-ups on his one arm, long past counting now. Listening, no doubt, but saying nothing. Steve wasn't the only one antsy and looking to blow off pent up emotions. Wanda sat curled on another mat, red lights dancing like a crown around her head. She seemed just as reluctant to be separated from the others. 

Except Scott. He'd had wandered off when they’d left the waiting room, Steve had no idea where to, and wondered what a cheerful man like him did to let off steam. He should check up on him soon. Had to keep an eye out for his team.

“… You think we’ll ever get back to how we were?” Steve asked quietly, as if speaking the words aloud would definitely jinx them. “Back at the Compound. With the team. Everybody.”

Sam heaved a deep long sigh and dropped his hands from the punching bag, stepping around it to face Steve fully. His eyes were pinched as he looked at his friend. “Steve, you… I don't think we’ll _ever_ get back to how we were, but you must know that isn't a bad thing?”

“What?”

“We’re in this situation because of how things _were_ , and obviously how things _were_ wasn't working if this is the result, neither side trusting the other, that there were even ‘sides’ to begin with,” Sam said. Steve stared at him. “If we get out of this mess in any semblance of a team, I think it’ll be for the better.”

“Better.”

“Hindsight and all that,” Sam said with a shrug. “You got a lot of time to think back over things when you're locked up. Not much else to do in one of those cells.”

“I don't understand.”

“Just… a lot of ‘what if’s, Steve,” Sam sighed. “What if we’d trusted Stark? What if we’d signed? What if we’d never had to fight? What if Stark had trusted _us_? Though, I'm thinking maybe he did, which just makes things a hell of a lot worse.”

Steve’s chest ached at the solemn voice Sam spoke with, reaching out to plant a hand on his shoulder, lending him strength. “You can’t get stuck about the past, Sam.”

Sam snorted, the loud noise startling red sparks from Wanda and making Bucky pause in his push-ups.

Steve frowned, a little confused at the pained smile on Sam’s face as he copied him, his hand resting on Steve’s shoulder now too.

“I don't think you understand yet just how ironic your words are. But you will. I’ll make sure of that.”

He knew he probably should understand, but Steve just _didn’t_ , but he was sure he _could_. It was like racing for a horizon, where there was an end, but one just out of sight, just out of reach. He didn't have time to ask Sam to explain more though, before the doors to the gym burst open and Scott skidded through the door, eyes wide.

“Hey! You're here. Great. I was just looking for- never mind,” Scott hurried to them, and Bucky rose to his feet as Wanda’s focus returned to those inside the room. 

“Where you been, Tic Tac?” Sam asked, a smile on his face despite the genuine worry in his tone. 

Scott shook his head, “I wanted to see the gardens, just wanted some fresh air, y’know? It’s been intense in here the past few days, not that I don't appreciate being involved, can’t wait to tell Cassie all about it - when do you think I’ll be able to see her, by the way? - but I just wanted to- never mind. Something’s happened.”

Steve shot a look at Sam, but he didn't seem to have any answers for the babbling.

Sighing, Scott tried again. “The Royal Office is all in a big panic over _something—_ ”

“Have you been off spying on them?” Sam frowned. “Is that really the best idea right now—”

“Not so much _spying_ as innocently passing by and overhearing some loud discussions!” Scott insisted. “Whatever! The point is I heard the name _Ross_ tossed around a hell of a lot.”

Everyone froze in the room at the name.

“Worse,” Scott said, frown pulling at his face. “I heard them mention _Potts_ too. Isn't she that CEO of Stark’s?”

* * *

Trip caught another yawn behind his hand, resting his head on the back of the comfortably provided chair at Ken’s bedside, feet propped up on the bed. Carol was snoring softly from the cot on Ken’s other side. Trip had offered her first use, since she’d been on her feet much longer. She’d protested but dropped off easily, smiling a little as she still held her phone. She’d fallen asleep whispering to Rhodes.

Dana had dropped by briefly earlier, only to say that Tony had fallen asleep again and to double check Ken’s notes for herself. He wondered when _she_ would have a break herself, the good doctor constantly working.

As soon as Ken woke, Trip was going to annoy him by falling asleep, he promised himself, because despite saying to Tony that he’d nap until Ken woke up, Trip couldn't bring himself to. Oh, he was exhausted, his head kept dropping and his eyelids were so heavy, but he wanted the surety of seeing Ken awake himself before he drifted off. 

There was a sharp clatter as Carol knocked her phone off the cot when she rolled over in her sleep, and Trip wasn't the only one who startled awake.

“What!” Ken spluttered, blinking at the ceiling above him. “Wasn’t me- _what_ \- where—”

Trip shot to his feet with energy he didn't realise he still had, gently pressing down on Ken’s shoulder so he stayed lying flat. “Easy, buddy,” he said. “You’re okay.”

“Hmm,” Ken lifted a hand floppily into the air, and Trip caught it, gripping tight. “Safe?”

“Yeah, we’re all safe. Tony came out of surgery fine, like you did. Everyone’s taking a nap now probably,” Trip answered easily, biting back another yawn as the relief gave way again to tiredness. “Need anything?”

Ken slowly shook his head on the bed.

“Great,” Trip let out his yawn, squeezing Ken’s hand. “I’ll just go let the doctors know you woke up. Okay?” 

Ken nodded, and Trip headed quietly for the door. 

He stopped when he heard his name.

“Hey,” Ken’s voice was scratchy, but there was a smirk on his face. “M’I gonna get a scar?”

“You can ask the doctors that.”

“Cool. I'm okay?”

“You will be,” Trip promised.

He headed for the door again. 

Ken called his name. Again.

“Bree?”

“Hal called her,” Trip answered, hand still on the door handle as he leaned tiredly on the door. “She’s pissed. And Eliza’s probably obsessively going over your medical notes from FRIDAY.”

Ken cringed, squirming a little guiltily on the bed before freezing when the movement no doubt pulled at his stitches. He nodded, and Trip opened the door an inch.

Trip heard his name once again.

“You coming back?” His voice was weak for the first time, eyes darting to Carol’s sleeping figure taking up the only spare cot in the room. “I guess you're tired…”

He didn't have to think, Trip just strode back to the bed and wrapped his arms around Ken, around his shoulders to avoid agitating his injuries. A hand gripped tightly back to his shirt. He felt shaky breaths against the side of his neck from the younger man, and rubbed a hand over Ken’s dark hair. 

He was dead tired, limbs almost shaking from exhaustion and adrenaline both, but heart tripping and mind racing with worry about everyone at the same time. Trip could honestly probably fall asleep like this, even in this awkward half-standing position. It didn't help that there was a pillow only inches from his face, even though it was technically Ken’s. He doubted Ken would mind sharing. He didn't seem to want to let go at the moment.

“I'm just getting the doctors, getting news on Tony and everyone else, and then getting back and planting my ass in that chair there,” Trip said, and he felt Ken’s tension fade away. “Then we’re gonna take a nap, all of us, and when we wake up again you can call Bree and let her yell at you a little so she stops worrying. Okay?”

“Okay.”

This time when Trip reached the door, no voice stopped him, but he was the one looking back for a last look anyway.

* * *

T'Challa was frowning at them.

Sam didn't know if it was because of bad news or from them nearly bursting into his office, but he was leaning - _hoping_ \- on the latter. He’d cringed himself when Steve had barrelled off after Scott’s news, no stopping him it seemed, Sam and Bucky at his back again like always. 

It was an intimidating frown for sure, but somehow still less threatening than all the other women in the room, especially his sister Princess Shuri. Their group had come into the room interrupting what was obviously a meeting between the siblings, not earning themselves any more points. It wasn't hard to remember which side of the Accords Wakanda had fallen on, when there were people looking at you like that.

“How did you hear of this?”

Scott only barely kept himself from fidgeting guiltily, but Steve had already stepped forward. “I heard a little about it in passing. Is Miss Potts alright?”

“She is.”

Steve shifted on the spot, impatient for more of an answer. “What happened?”

“Ross has lost his reputation, his job, and his power,” T'Challa said evenly. “It has made him a very desperate man, one apparently hungry for revenge, and he picked a seeming weak target. The SI R&D panel at a security technology show was the quickest way to stir up trouble and he took to the stage demanding answers of the Avengers from Miss Potts. And then he physically attacked her.”

Sam was horrified.

He’d only met Pepper Potts three times; when the Avengers had first moved into the Tower before the whole Ultron thing; when the new Avengers had gotten _back_ after the Ultron thing to a new home in the Compound; and when he’d attended an art gallery opening after Steve had begged and they'd happened upon Pepper there on her own - which was a godsend because honestly Sam couldn't care less about the ‘art’ they were seeing, though the pair ended up talking about Stark more than the art.

He learned three definite things about Pepper. That lady was wicked intelligent, incredibly kind, and able to wrangle the people around her like sheep.

She definitely did not deserve to be attacked by Ross for something that had nothing to do with her, Sam knew how uncomfortable Pepper was with the whole superhero business from talking to Rhodes. Questions, _demands_ , from her about the Avengers when she probably had no clues on what was happening, when she was defenceless and alone…

“You said she was alright,” Steve stressed, eyes darting between T'Challa and his sister.

Shuri began to smirk, and even T’Challa’s frown lightened a little.

“What?”

“Well, at the time, SI were presenting a personal security wristband device - you've encountered something similar but more advanced from Mr Stark, I believe,” he said with a nod to Bucky. “A Miss Lewis was on stage with Miss Potts preparing to demonstrate, and chose a live target instead of the provided dummy.”

“The video of Miss Lewis tasering Ross off the stage has since been taken off the internet,” Shuri said, a little regretfully. “Unfortunate. It was most impressive to watch.”

Steve’s big frame slumped a little in relief, “So they're definitely okay.”

“Yes,” T'Challa confirmed. “But our problems have only begun.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ross may have been pressing to criminalise your team further with his actions, but he is not alone with a lot of his questions, and the public is calling out for answers. They want to know where Iron Man is especially,” T'Challa said, that heavy frown returning full force. “Miss Potts gave a press conference that has not exactly helped matters, but then, she does not appear to be in the mood to help you right now.”

Sam felt dread dropping dully into his stomach. He had almost forgotten one other thing about Pepper.

She took threats to Stark very seriously and very personally.

He almost feared hearing what words she’d said to the public, what blame she had laid at the Avengers’ feet. Pepper Potts was a rational and logical woman, until you involved the hot mess of Tony Stark. Then all bets were off.

It wouldn't be pretty.

“Her words will have turned questions back to the UN,” T'Challa continued. “And soon they in turn will look to a valuable source of information already within their grasp.”

It suddenly clicked in Sam’s head. “Zemo.”

T'Challa nodded. “I imagine he would be only too happy to trouble us further.”

“He doesn’t know we’re here though,” Steve said. “We left separately from Siberia, and he was knocked out when you took him with you to the UN.”

“That is not the part I am worrying about.”

Bucky sighed from behind them. “Stark. He knows Stark was there with us.”

“Yes,” Shuri snapped, sending a fierce look at them all. “The last sighting of Iron Man the UN will hear about will be his appearance in Siberia, directly disobeying orders at the time. And they will know that Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes were there too. With no appearance of Mr Stark since, it won’t be long until they start imagining the worst. They’ll start looking for confirmation or proof then.”

“They’ll want to ask you,” Sam concluded, looking at the king. “Since you're their only other known witness.”

“Yes.”

“They’re gonna come here.”

“It is likely.”

“The stupid people on that council will be scrambling for answers, looking for those to lay blame, and there are still three who signed their Accords perfectly visible.” Shuri growled suddenly, “No doubt they will go for Colonel Rhodes and that android first. He has less political immunity than my brother, closer to Mr Stark, and they have easier access. But yes, they will come here eventually too.”

Steve was shaking his head, “This isn't right. This panel can’t be allowed to force you to answer them. This is exactly why I didn’t sign—”

Shuri snarled, and Steve’s jaw snapped shut. 

T'Challa laid a calming - _or was it restraining?_ \- hand on his sister’s shoulder. “We are _not_ discussing the Accords right now, Captain, there are more pressing matters to deal with and I have not the time to explain things which you seem to have no interest in listening to right now.” He pointed to the door. “Go.”

Scott stumbled to the door first, opening it with a nervous expression on his face and slipping out.

Steve, the stubborn _idiot_ , hadn't moved yet, and Sam was seriously considering shoving him for all the good it would do against a super soldier. Bucky would probably help. His expression was just as aggravated as Sam’s, and he was already tugging insistently on one of Steve’s meaty shoulders.

He _really_ needed to talk to Steve about when to let things drop.

“Do we need to leave Wakanda?” Steve asked. “I won’t let them take Bucky or the team.”

“There is no need for that. No one is entering my country any time soon, I will see to that.”

“Thank you.”

“It is not only for you, Captain.” T’Challa’s dark eyes shifted between all there of them. “I have others under my protection, a whole country too. This council behind the Accords might not be half so powerful had amendments been carried out with the weight of, say, Captain America’s moral authority. Blocking your ears and simply saying ‘no’ to a document this powerful changes nothing. _Has_ changed things, but was it for the better?”

Steve turned then, quietly making to follow Scott out the door. Bucky was shaking his head at Steve, but Sam’s mind was turning over again with all his thinking. 

_Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong._

Sam knew returning those words to Stark were gonna be the least of his efforts in rebuilding things between them all. For now, he wanted to find out what Pepper had said. There was a TV in the suite they’d been given. Something like this was bound to still be making the rounds on the news.

* * *

Without the activity of Steve and his punching bag, or Barnes on the mats, or Sam even on the treadmills, the gym was quiet. The men had all left after Scott’s news.

Wanda had stayed behind.

She was still there, watching the lights and shadows dance between her hands, trying not to think, not to feel. She had little success. 

Success did not seem to be the way for her.

Wanda had thought herself incapable of changing the fear people had of her.

That was apparently wrong. She _was_ capable of changing that fear from others, she’d proven that by making them _more_ afraid of her. The opposite was probably true too. It was a longer path, a harder path, to that sort of redemption. One that had seemed impossible.

Or had it just seemed too trying to bother?

Losing Pietro was losing herself. Right became wrong. Up, down. Good… bad.

People had been looking at her like she had looked at _Stark_.

It should have been the thing to drive her to do better, as she begrudgingly admitted Stark had been doing.

In the end it had only frightened her, all that public outcry against her. Wanda was terrified, she’d had none of the success curbing her fear as she’d claimed to Vision.

The collar around her throat on the Raft had been everything she’d thought Stark had wanted, a vindication of the Right side, of Steve’s side. They were locked up because they were _Right_.

To hear later that it had not been what Stark had wanted was startling.

Stark had wanted to… _protect_ her?

Wanda, who still distrusted him. Wanda, who had blamed him for ruining her life. Wanda, who had reached into his mind and played out his worst nightmares. Wanda, who had stood against him in the fight over the Accords, and basically any fight that involved him honestly.

Wanda, who Stark had no reason to protect.

 _Why_ would he want to protect her?

She couldn't understand it.

She was literally _the last_ person Stark should want to protect. Their distrust and anger and hatred was mutual.

It was mutual, right?

 _Unless_ …

The sparks between her hands dashed faster, fracturing, splintering off at the speed Wanda was having them circle in her palms. She hissed as the sparks met in a clash that stung when she contained it in her lap, not wanting to damage the gym.

Unless Stark _didn't_ hate her. Or hadn’t, at least.

Wanda didn't know what to make of that, if it were true. 

She curled around her knees where she sat, wishing and wishing for her brother. Pietro had always been faster - to anger, to action, to understanding, to forgiveness - and it had been Wanda who had acted as the greater force of the two as they followed and led in turn. Now of all times, she missed his presence the most.

Nothing made sense.

* * *

“Go back. Go back!”

“I _know_ , just gimme a sec.”

“You missed it again.”

“Aren’t snipers supposed to be patient?”

“Have you ever used a remote control?”

“Don’t test me, Barnes.”

Steve sighed, pinching his brow as he waited for Sam to flip to a news channel in time to catch the start of Pepper’s press conference in full. With the worst luck in timing, they’d only managed to catch summaries of her statement covered by the various news anchors, and one channel discussing the state of the company relating to how Pepper dressed for some unfathomable reason. 

At last, Sam caught the latest re-run, and this time the anchors weren't narrating over her words too. They all straightened as they listened, even Scott on the sofa.

Pepper was dressed impeccably, for whatever that was worth as a statement about SI, but yes, differently. Steve had only ever seen her in monochrome colours, maybe the odd shade of blue, always cool and collected in her towering heels, exactly as perfect as Tony always said she was. 

But here she was like one of those paintings of righteous angels from church windows, alight with power, ascending the steps to the podium in a dress that was the exact shade of Iron Man red. She didn't look like a former Secretary of State had attacked her less than twelve hours ago. She didn't look like the impromptu press conference was anything less than exactly where she wanted to be. She didn't look ruffled in the slightest.

Steve really didn't expect anything less.

She stared calmly out at the crowd, waiting for the flashes of the cameras to stop before speaking.

 _“I’ll begin with a prepared statement, and answer questions after,”_ Pepper said into the microphone. _“If a question addresses something already covered in my statement, I won’t be repeating myself, and I won’t take another question from that person - so I would pay very careful attention to what I have to say.”_

What few murmurs in the room were silenced. Steve held his breath.

Pepper turned her head slightly to view the autocue. _“First, I’d like to address the many affected in the incidents in Romania and Germany. What occurred never should have, and those responsible should have done better. Stark Relief is on the ground already providing support and working with UN aid workers, but they also offer legal, financial or medical help to those affected.”_

Cool blue eyes faced forward.

 _“Three are dead after the initial assault at Bucharest,”_ Pepper said bluntly. _“Five others are hospitalised, and five more came away with other injuries. They were police officers, under orders, doing their jobs, doing what they thought was right in protecting the people they served.”_

Steve felt the words like stabs from an icepick to the heart. 

 _“Following the chase through the tunnel, four more lost their lives either directly or as a result of the pile-up left behind. A dozen more in critical condition, and many more suffered injuries.”_ Pepper paused. _“They were civilians.”_

Bucky was a pale statue while he stood and watched the conference. Sam had fallen back onto the sofa with Pepper’s words.

_“Their names will all be released with permission and when necessary funeral arrangements have been settled. Representatives have asked the public to abide by their wish for privacy during this time. Our prayers go out to all the victims and their families.”_

Pepper turned back to the autocue.

 _“Now. Regarding what happened during the recent Stark Industries panel,”_ Pepper straightened under a fresh onslaught of camera flashes. _“The former Secretary of State did start the incident asking inappropriate questions, before resorting to physical means when my answers didn't satisfy him. I hope no one here will follow his example, or they’ll face a similar fate.”_

Nervous laughter flickered through the reporters, at least partly from the vicious smile from Darcy at Pepper’s shoulder. And Steve didn't think that gold watch on Pepper’s slender wrist was a simple timepiece.

_“He’s in the custody of the proper authorities. I have no further comments on anything to do with Mr Ross outside of the incident at the R &D panel.”_

Steve wanted to know more though. He wanted to know where Ross was being kept, which authorities had him, what was going to happen, how that man was going to be punished… but Pepper seemed done with the topic, a placid pearly-white smile on her face as she faced the journalists again.

_“Questions?”_

There was an immediate clamour from the whole audience, and somehow Pepper still managed to single people out from the many raised hands.

_“Miss Potts, what did Secretary Ross want to know?”_

_“It’s former Secretary. He believed I knew then the location of the Avengers who followed Captain America’s example. He was wrong.”_

_“Has James Barnes really been exonerated for the Vienna bombing?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Was Captain America right then to free him?”_

_“He was wrong in how he went about freeing his friend, needlessly endangering and costing lives and livelihoods.”_

_“There are rumours that General Ross warranted a kill order on Captain America. Did Iron Man go to Leipzig to kill Captain America?”_

_“He did_ not!  _A_ _nd I've said I had no further comments regarding Mr Ross. Escort Mr Levenson out please, I did warn you...”_

_“Where does SI stand with the Sokovia Accords?”_

_“Stark Industries has no affiliation with the Avengers or Iron Man, only with Tony Stark.”_

_“How is that possible with you providing aid?”_

_“Stark Relief, an entirely independent organisation, has provided all the aid after Avengers’ battles since 2012. They are funded by Mr Stark personally and many other generous donations, including most recently from Pym Technologies. There are no ties between Stark Industries and the Avengers.”_

_“Do_ you _agree with the Accords then?”_

 _“In its essence, though they remain imperfect now. Being a superhero is a job, an important one as recent years have shown, but still one of_ service _. A superhero is one who works to protect the people, as those police officers did in Bucharest. To ignore the rights and concerns of those same people as Captain America has done, especially in the_ ways _he has done…”_ An angry flush bloomed up Pepper’s neck. _“But, I do not agree about how the Accords were abused under Mr Ross.”_

_“Who will replace him on handling the Accords then?”_

_“Mr Ross was never in charge of the Accords or those who signed, that is a gross misconception. It isn't under the purview of the US government, but the UN appointed council. I've been trying to find out myself who that is, with no success. You should start pestering_ them _for the answer to that.”_

_“Tony Stark hasn't made an appearance since the fight in Leipzig - where is he? Was he injured? There was talk of a fallen Avenger.”_

Sam flinched on the sofa, and Steve went to sit with him. 

_"An Avenger was injured in Leipzig. It was not Mr Stark."_

It wasn't easy to listen to at all, and Steve had a feeling it had barely begun. He could only offer his friend support and keep listening, as he’d promised himself. If _Pepper_ was saying things like this, someone who _knew_ him and the others on the team, someone who had (once) supported him, _a friend_ , then maybe she wasn't the only one thinking this way. 

_"Miss Potts, what do you say to reports that Captain America turned Iron Man to his side?"_

_"I'd tell you to find better sources. Tony Stark wouldn't turn his back on the people of the world like that, he's not the type to ignore an ugly truth, not even for Captain America. I know because he's more than my boss and my mentor - he is one of my best friends..."_

* * *

Carol barely moved, it was the smoothest transition from asleep to awake Ken had ever witnessed, and only through _great_ self-control did he stop himself startling with a jump and further hurting himself. At most it was a strange full body twitch. Carol was laughing in her head, he could tell, those blue eyes twinkling even though they were barely slitted open. _Eh_ , it wasn't like Ken had ever given much care to his dignity or whatever.

“Don’t tell Trip,” Ken whispered, eyes darting to the man drooling asleep in the chair next to his bed.

“I don't even know how I'd _begin_ to explain this.”

“What do you think there is to explain?”

Carol’s eyes opened wider, a small amused curl in the corners of her mouth as her eyes darted back and forth between them. “Well, I’d say you were trying to lasso my phone with the wire of your call button. But I could just be having a vivid dream, I suppose.”

Ken looked down at his hand, where it was indeed gripping the wire to the nurses’ call button, only now there was a loop at the end, which lay inches away from where Carol had her phone by her pillow on the cot.

It was a stupid idea, but Ken was bored and a little desperate too.

“Sorry.”

“No need,” Carol said, sitting up and handing the device to Ken herself. “You could've woken me.”

“I could've also just got out of bed myself—”

“And probably collapsed.”

“—but I thought I’d be an adult and protect my healing and stay still. Mostly.” Ken flipped the phone in his hand. “Thanks.”

Carol dimpled a smile at him, standing and stretching with a groan. “I’ll give you some privacy, get something to eat, maybe check on Tony.”

“Trip said he was asleep last time he checked,” Ken offered, but didn't stop her leaving. He turned back to the phone. 

There were several people he wanted to call. His parents, obviously, because he was in the hospital and Ken didn't like worrying them more, since he’d _told_ them he’d be careful on the rescue. _Oops_. Rhodes, because he was cool and would give him the honest truth on what the hell was going on right now, and Ken _knew_ Trip was holding back on something when he’d returned with the doctors before. He probably needed to call his coach too, and let her know that Ken’s injury was _probably_ gonna force him to sit out of training for a while. 

But really, Ken’s thumb had already tapped in a number while he was thinking.

Two much loved faces appeared on the screen after the first ring. The only thing similar about them was the scowl on both their faces. It warmed Ken to see those scowls. He knew he was a strange guy.

“ _Baka!_ ”

Trip let out a loud snore at the shriek, and Ken had to bite back a grin at the outrage on his sister’s face. She would have to restrain her yelling for now - in volume anyway - unless she wanted to wake Trip. And she wouldn’t.

His small victory was short-lived though, as the second person cleared their throat and shot Ken a pointed look with those dark blue eyes. For all that Bree Dugan’s temper was a fire tornado, fierce and calamitous in its immediacy, her best friend Eliza Falsworth’s temper was an avalanche, you didn’t see the danger until it had taken your feet out from under you. His cheeks burned under her eyes.

“ _FRIDAY’s been keeping us up-to-date,”_ Bree snapped, pushing closer to the screen until all he could see was one eye. _“You’re okay?”_

Trip snored again, lips smacking.

Ken managed a little smile. “I will be. Tell me what FRIDAY’s been telling you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sharon had woken up a while ago, but hadn't opened her eyes yet. 

Curled up on the bed, she could feel the legs pressed against hers and the soft puffs of air pass her forehead that told her Tony was still asleep in front of her. Beneath the smell of antiseptic and the floral air freshener, there was even a hint of Tony’s slightly metallic scent. 

It was only now, with a little time after the whole ordeal, and the certainty that Tony was safe and everyone was alive and a little rested, that Sharon _really_ allowed herself to feel the aches in her body. Properly. Not even trying to put on a strong front in the face of it, not here where she was secure in her vulnerability, with Tony before her and her family around. 

She just wanted to stay in this bubble for a _little_ longer. 

But the body beside her shifted, and Sharon opened her eyes to see that Tony had woken now too, head turned to face her, honey brown eyes slitted open just the slightest. She spotted a peek of white teeth with his smile, and felt a wobbly smile form in reply. 

Tony hummed, and he reached up, probably to play with her hair like he often did, and Sharon found herself bursting out with an— “I kissed him.”

Of all the goddamned things she wanted to talk about with Tony - and the rest of her family - that was probably somewhere down the bottom of the list, but it came out of Sharon first. _Why?_ It was ridiculous. It didn't matter, it _didn't matter_ , not compared to so much else that had happened—

Except, it obviously _did_ matter, if it was the first stupid thing Sharon found herself blurting out to Tony. She hadn't realised the others in the room had been there until their low murmuring cut off in the background after her words. _Wonderful_ , there were witnesses to this embarrassment.

She made herself focus on Tony, pretending the others weren't there. 

Tony, who was just staring at her.

“Say something.”

“I don't know what to say,” Tony answered her. “I have no idea what you're talking about?”

Sharon cringed, curling tighter on the bed. Her butt was nearly hanging off the mattress now.

A gentle tug of her hair pulled her eyes back to Tony’s. “Hey, explain it to me. I promise, I'm not gonna be mad. Have I ever been mad at you?”

She had to give him that. Tony was incredibly forgiving to his near and dear, and Sharon had never really given reason for him to get mad at her anyway. His soft spot seemed to have no bounds for her. 

And really, Sharon knew why _that_ piece of information had been the first thing she’d blurted out. 

Secret-keeping was blood and bone in the Carter family. Work and SHIELD and mission secrets, Sharon knew well the feeling of biting those details back, keeping them to burn in her chest. But those secrets never weighed on her with Tony, never made her feel guilty or dishonest, because Tony had always understood that those kinds of secrets weren't hers to tell, were for the _greater good_ , and however curious or concerned Tony got, he’d never pressed. He’d never put Sharon in an awkward position of having to knowingly withhold information from her. 

(Not to mention that, Tony probably already _knew_ what information Sharon was keeping, from his hacking and online snooping.)

It had made Sharon very conscious of not having to keep secrets in the other areas of her life, of not _wanting_ to keep secrets with her family.

Big secrets were big for a _reason_ , something explainable, something probably worthy of the silence Sharon held. Small secrets though, they hurt Tony more. They hurt because they didn't always _have_ to be kept, not at the beginning. They hurt because they would snowball, and what was once a little thing to hide became bigger and bigger. They hurt because they made Tony _question_ everything about that person and their intentions and their feelings about Tony.

 _Just tell him_ , Mom had said, _don't wait, don't let it fester, that’ll hurt Tony more in the end if you do_.

Mom probably had meant for more tact, but Sharon wasn't in top form right now.

And the last thing she wanted were any more secrets. 

“Steve.” The hand in her hair froze. “I kissed Steve.”

Tony’s mouth hung open a little as he stared at her still. Sharon felt her heart rabbiting in her chest as she waited. “Er, I didn't know- are you two…?”

“No!” Sharon shook her head. “No. It was just… heat of the moment, I guess.”

“Shar-bear, I'm not gonna be upset about you being with him. No more than I'm ever upset about you dating, because no one’s really worthy of you, poptart—”

“Ohmygod, you're worse than Dad.”

“But, seriously, I love you, kid. If you're _with_ Rogers, you can tell me.” He grimaced, “I won’t be the most enthusiastic, given recent events. But you don't ever have to worry about the two of us.”

“I'm not with him, Tony.” She locked eyes with Tony. “It was just the once, and I don't think there’s gonna be a repeat. I just, I didn't want to not tell you, or for you to hear it differently from someone else, or—”

“Okay,” he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Sharon felt so much better for it. “It’s okay.”

“I just, I'm so _tired_ of all the secrets.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed heavily. “I know what you mean.” 

Sharon shuffled forward, and Tony didn't even pause in wrapping his good arm under her and into a hug, and she wondered why she’d ever hesitated. It was _Tony_ , her Tony. 

“You okay?”

Her _stupid_ Tony, who even now was still more worried about Sharon than himself. “Yeah. I'm okay.”

She got another forehead kiss for that though, and that was sort of perfect.

* * *

Tony was… confused.

Very confused.

It was a common state to be in over Cap. That, or very conflicted. There were a lot of mixed feelings over old Red, White and Blue basically. 

What had once been childhood hero-worship and adulation, had grown over his adolescence into resentment and derision, and neither state had ever really left Tony. Even at this age. Every time he thought he had a handle on how he felt about Cap, something would pull the floor out from under him, knock him over, and kick him while he was down. And it was usually then that Tony thought to himself ‘time to reassess, again’.

Weren't friends on the Helicarrier, but after New York and that nuke, when the team had parted ways, when Tony and Steve had parted ways, it had been with a handshake. Not _trust_ precisely, but the beginnings of something, Tony had thought.

And yet, when SHIELD was falling apart under the rebirth of Hydra - _the bad guys using his goddamned tech again, and maybe that was a sign_ \- Steve hadn't come to him. He hadn't gone to any others in the team, at least, but it still stung a little. That he might have, in the smallest measure, thought Tony to be Hydra?

But he’d come in after, gathered up the team again from the far corners they’d all retreated too, and taken up Tony’s offer of shelter, tech and air support. The team had worked _beautifully_ , and what had once been on-the-job tentative trust in the face of global destruction grew stronger. The fragile foundations of a real team had started. 

There was… there was training together, and lab time with Bruce, and banter with Barton, and movies with Nat, and feasting with Thor, and standing at Steve’s side as they led the team. Tony had been so _proud_ of the team. There were team dinners, team bonding, fucking _Lullabies_. They were a _team_.

And then, Ultron.

Steve had… he’d never looked at Tony quite the same way after.

It had definitely shaken things. What had been left behind was more broken than what it had been before, but Tony had always been one to see the beauty in what was broken. Maybe that was another mistake of his. Tony had thought he was too close to the situation (the team) to see objectively, and the step-down had been as much for that clarity as it was from Tony’s nightmares. 

 _Active Duty, Non-Combatant_.

What had been an attempt at giving the new line-up space to form those team bonds that Tony had loved, had only driven the chasm between him and them ever wider. He’d lost their trust, and it had hurt more than he’d imagined it would. Nothing he did seemed to be right, he was losing things at every step, and Tony was tired, _he was so tired_ , of losing things and standing against the team, the friends, he loved.

And then they had lost Tony’s trust, but that always happened much later.

Rogers was the ghost of a children’s fairytale that Tony had never been able to shake, both yearning to hear every scrap of a story about him, and at the same time terribly bitter about the love those stories got, the love Tony had wanted, (because _he_ was here at least, _he_ hadn't resorted to crashing a plane, although maybe he’d been crashing everything else since—).

Tony’s feelings had only become more complicated as he grew older.

Red Skull’s fucking multiverse reveal hadn't helped clear that up at all. 

But this? A kiss? With his Sharon?

Was merely a droplet in a giant maelstrom that made up how Tony felt about Steve. _Rogers_. Cap.

It wasn't like the act had been some great scandal or anything. There hadn't been much left to ruin between them anyway. By that point, Tony guessed that Rogers had lost all faith in Tony anyway. He was already planning on getting Barton and Maximoff and Ant-Man and jetting off to Siberia—

 _Fucking Siberia_.

—and he wasn't planning on telling anyone. Certainly not _Tony_.

“Hey.”

Turning his head at the voice, Tony smiled when he saw Natasha standing over him, arms folded and eyebrow raised. “Romanov,” he shifted carefully onto his back, right arm still wrapped around Sharon. “Been watching me sleep? Very Twilight of you.”

The corners of her mouth twitched. “Shut up.”

“Besides, she’s had better things to do than watch you snore,” Michael said cheerfully as he appeared at Natasha’s side. “We’ve been sharing baby stories about you with her!”

Tony felt his face pale. “You haven’t.”

“You will never know,” Hal said, popping up on Sharon’s side of the bed.

“ _No_ ,” Sharon said quickly, burrowing closer to Tony’s side. “No more secrets.”

Hal smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “We’re just teasing, sweetheart.”

Natasha nodded, “It was more like an interrogation. Not a bad one either.”

Shark grins stretched across Michael and Hal’s faces, and Tony felt no less embarrassed about them giving _Black Widow_ of all people what amounted to a shovel talk. _God_ , Nat was never going to let him live it down. And if she’d really passed that talk, the baby stories would eventually come along too. There was that to look forward to. 

Tony stretched his legs out on the bed a little, groaning at the achy feeling still lingering in his muscles. “So, anything happen while I was out?”

Everyone froze in a way that immediately made his insides seize. 

“What.”

“Okay, first of all,” Hal said gently. “Pepper is _fine_.”

“ _What_.”

* * *

Dana wasn't best pleased when she came into her patient’s room.

She had only just deemed it allowable to let herself have a nap in the nurses’ break room, when Barton had burst in, babbling about how Tony was awake and trying to leave Medical and _do something_ and _help_. Dana had left specific instructions with Hal to keep the patient’s environment stress-free and calm and restful, optimal for healing, and to _call her_ the moment he woke up again. Evie had warned her that Tony was a flight-risk in Medical, Dana had stayed awake longer than she’d have liked just in case he tried anything, she’d let him have more visitors to keep him occupied just to keep Tony from leaving his bed.

Of course, he tried something the minute Dana had shut her eyes. 

 _Damn it all_ , but Dana didn't have the patience or the energy to yell at people right now. Barton was near herding her out of the room, she kept stumbling a little with exhaustion. 

Romanov was waiting at the door to Tony’s room, but Dana would have heard the panicked yelling from the other end of the wing, even without the open doorway. She sped up, Barton shadowing her steps.

From the yelling, Dana had a pretty good clue as to what had distressed her patient, and she was going to have _strong_ _words_ with Hal about that, this was the opposite of stress-free and calm and restful. Who thought this had been a good idea?

Her mind was already whirring away at how to contain the situation, to contain Tony, as she stepped through the door and swapped Barton for Romanov as an escort.

“-have to call Legal, they need to know—”

“Tony, I promise, Pepper’ll already have done all that—”

“-and what about Foster? Is she—”

“Fine! She’s fine! They’re all fine! Tony, let go of the IV—”

“-gonna fucking _destroy_ him, where the hell is he anyway? Who the fuck has him—”

“I swear to god, I will have Sharon _sit_ on you if you don't stop trying to—”

Dana stuck her fingers in her mouth and blew a piercing whistle.

All movement froze in the room. 

It was a fairly chaotic tableau. Sharon was equally demanding answers from her father as well as trying to keep Tony in bed, Hal had a hand clamped over the IV port in Tony’s wrist, and Michael was being an angel and keeping Tony’s cast steady in the middle of it all. It would have thoroughly pissed Dana off it her hard work _fixing_ that had had been undone in less than 24 hours. 

She stared them all down, painting the most disappointed expression on her face.

“I did not fly 4000 miles for a patient only to have my work undone so quickly, Tony. Dr Cho and FRIDAY have already forwarded your health records to me, I know exactly how quickly you heal, and you are not fit to leave Medical just yet - and _yes_ , I can tell you what to do - so you keep your arse on that bed.”

With a resentful pout, Tony did at least stop clawing at Hal’s hand to drop back into his pillows. Dana turned to the next person.

“Agent Carter, I requested extra cots for you for a _reason_. If you aren’t going to use one, please don't exacerbate my healing patient.”

Sharon settled next to Tony, smoothing out the blanket over their legs and avoiding Dana’s eyes.

“Hal,” Dana sent him a withering look. “I'm telling Evie about this.”

He cringed and paled a little where he stood, and that was somewhat satisfying.

“And Mr Sousa, thank you for your help. You can set his arm down now, as I'm _sure_ Tony isn't going to risk further injuring himself and possibly delaying a full recovery of his hand.”

Michael smiled tentatively, and carefully placed Tony’s left hand on a pillow again.

 _Distraction_ , Dana decided would be the only way to contain Tony right now. He wasn't fit to go off fixing the rest of the world just yet, outside the Iron Man suit or no. And he wasn't going to be satisfied just staying in bed with nothing to do either, Dana could tell that from what little time she’d spent with the billionaire.

She knew what to suggest. It would buy a little more time at least.

Not taking her eyes off her patient, lest Tony take it as an opening to break out, Dana turned her head slightly to Romanov standing at her shoulder. “Would you please get pass a message to the Royal Office, requesting an audience at their earliest convenience? It’s important.” 

Hal’s head shot up at that. “Dana—”

“You should tell them, Hal,” Dana nodded. “You have permission. But I think the King of Wakanda should be aware of who exactly they’ve let into their country.”

“You can’t just deflect like that,” Tony piped up. “However much we want to know whatever Hal’s been hiding. Pepper—”

“Tony, please,” Michael sighed. “She’s safe and unharmed. FRIDAY would've told us if she wasn’t, or Happy would for sure. Trust us.”

“And don't worry about Ross,” Romanov added. “I have a pretty good idea who’s holding him, and he’s not about to escape their clutches any time soon.”

Tony stared back at Romanov for a long minute, before nodding slightly, almost nodding to himself, and relaxing further on his bed. He waved a hand, “Alright, go on then. Tell us the big secret.”

Hal’s eyes darted to Romanov, and the spy read the silent request easily, and slipped out of the room. His shoulders slumped, with both relief and a long-held grief, once she’d left. Dana felt a little sorry to have Hal’s story be the distraction, but he himself had been wanting to tell this secret for some years now. And he wasn't alone.

“Dad?” Sharon looked at him with concern, obviously noting the darker mood her father was in now.

He managed to pull up a half-smile, “I'm alright, it’s just… it’s a long story, and it’s not a very happy one.”

Tony looked like he regretted his cavalier tone before, reaching out now to hold Hal’s hand. “You don't have to—”

“No, I know,” Hal said. “But I want to tell you. I do. It’s just difficult. I don’t really know where to begin.”

“Do you want to call Evie?” Dana asked. “And have her explain with you?”

“Maybe,” he nodded. “I don't want to have to go over it twice in one day though. You think we can get Ken and the other two in here?”

Dana shook her head, “Mr Dugan really _can’t_ leave his bed right now…”

Hal ran a hand through his hair, dark blond turning paler with more silver now, obviously steeling himself to go over everything twice. Dana might have been a little upset about him disturbing her patient, but she wasn't cruel. She wouldn't make him do that.

“I’ll get a wheelchair,” she sighed. “If Tony _promises_ not to risk further damage to himself, I think he should be fine for us to transfer to Mr Dugan’s room for a bit. He can use the spare cot in there to rest on while you tell them… everything.”

Tony agreed easily enough, and Dana wondered how much that had to do with the sudden relief on Hal’s face.

 _Distraction_ , it would certainly be distracting enough, Dana thought. And she’d be back to her napping soon enough, but depending on how the news was taken by Hal’s family and the Wakandan royalty, Dana could be back having that nap on the first plane out of the country instead of the nurses’ break room. 

* * *

Despite his earlier energetic attempts of walking out AMA to set Ross on fire for threatening Pepper, Tony was obviously still very tired and in pain. He’d turned down Dana’s brand of pain relief for now too because he wanted to be clear-headed when he heard Hal’s story. Sharon was watching him carefully though, and she wasn't the only one.

It was a mini-procession getting Tony out of his room even in the wheelchair.

Michael was still keeping an eye on the cast, fluffing a pillow to prop his left arm on the armrest. Sharon had taken the task of wheeling the IV stand beside them, while her Dad pushed Tony himself, a grim expression on his face. It made Sharon worry, a little, but she couldn't deny that she was eager to hear what he said too. 

There had been a moment when Sharon had seriously worried about Tony getting worked up again as they passed by Barton outside the room. She’d been ready to intervene if either one of the men started in on each other again. But nothing had happened. Tony had sat stiffly in the wheelchair as Hal pushed him to Ken’s room, and Barton hadn't moved to go with them or said a word where he was leaning against the wall. Only his eyes had followed them.

T'Challa himself had been waiting in Ken’s room with Natasha, and two of his ever-present bodyguard too. 

“Tony!” Ken crowed on the bed, grinning despite how pale he still was. Hal stopped the wheelchair by the bed so Tony and Ken could clasp hands and scan their eyes over each other like the hypocrites they both were about injuries. “I never want to be that close to your ass again.”

“You _wish_ you could be close to such an ass as mine again!” Tony shot back with a grin. “Seriously, though, thank you.”

Ken shrugged off the gratitude. “I hear we’re in for a story before bed?”

Hal nodded, wheeling Tony over to the cot Carol was vacating. Dana helped settle Tony on the bed, clipping him back with a heart monitor and other equipment as Sharon watched, and then the doctor left the room with a final nod to Hal. She shut the door behind her, and all eyes turned to Hal.

“What I'm about to tell involves secrets not all mine alone, secrets that could put others at risk if they spread uncontrollably,” Hal’s eyes darted briefly to the two bodyguards on either side of the closed door. “I hope none of you will—”

“Whatever you have to tell us, I promise you it will not leave this room,” T'Challa said solemnly. “My Dora Milaje have sworn loyalty to me, I have the upmost trust in them. They will tell no one if there's need for secrecy.”

The women both straightened and preened a little at their King’s words.

“My lips are sealed,” Romanov said, taking a place leaning up against the wall. Carol added her agreement too, and everyone was quiet as they waited him out. 

There were other things to discuss right now, present problems, _pressing_ problems, but the phrase _no more secrets_ kept circling around in Sharon’s head. Things would be better moving ahead if everything was open, and they could start with one of the longest held secrets in the family.

Hal went to sit at the foot of Ken’s bed, and Sharon went to stand with him, offering whatever support he needed, watching her Dad flick through his phone quickly until her Mom appeared on screen. He managed a tiny smile when he saw her.

“Hey, honey,” Hal said, voice rough. “I’m… I'm gonna tell them ‘bout what we discussed. You might have to… if I…”

_“You stop when you have to, I've got you, my love. I've got you.”_

Bolstered by Mom’s words, Sharon watched and waited with the others for her Dad to begin.

* * *

Hal felt too wretched to be as nervous as he thought he would be in this moment, but it helped to have his wife’s face looking up at him on his phone screen. Finally revealing all, after all these years. He hoped he’d feel lighter afterwards. He prayed that the others wouldn't resent his silence too, though he prepared himself for that.

“I suppose I should start when I was a boy,” he said. “Before Aunt Peg and Danny took me in, and why they had to at all…”

* * *

Sixteen years old and home for the Easter holidays, Hal had been expecting to spend the time from school studying a little for the coming O-Level exams, but also having fun with his family. With his parents and his brother and sister.

_“You had siblings?” Sharon asked, voice subdued._

_“I did.”_

_“No one ever mentioned them before.”_

_“It’s hard to talk about them now.”_

Bea had been two years older, a new adult, eager to go to University in the autumn. She was preparing to study intensively that holiday, forgoing her more sociable calendar with her friends in order to spend time at home having their mother test her on everything while teaching her more simple recipes for her anticipated student days. Bea had been confident she’d get the grades, and was all about preparedness and independence.

Joey had been eight, and the only thing on his mind at the time had been the first _Star Wars_ movie, eagerly exchanging letters and phone calls with his cousins about the movie, spending hours at a time raving about it and pretending himself to be a Jedi, and getting their father to wear a nightgown about the house all hours so he could be his Obi-Wan.

It had been Dad’s birthday, and Bea had presented him with a raspberry sponge cake she’d made herself, and it had only been slightly burned on the edges. At least it hadn't been half-raw like her last attempt. 

Having stuffed themselves with dinner and cake, the whole family had been lazing in the living room planning the camping trip for the end of the holiday. Nothing new, they lived in the country and their house backed up onto an idyllic area of field and woodland that the children had explored since their first steps. But they liked a night or two out in the woods to end the holidays, and the weather had been good for it. The last few nights had been wonderfully clear for star-gazing.

There had been a full moon.

_“Is this- is this going where I think it’s going? That’s oddly specific,” Ken whispered._

_He was shushed by Trip._

There had been a noise in the front garden. Mum had gone to investigate as Hal put away the leftover cake, expecting a fox in the bins, or a sheep that had escaped from a nearby pasture even, as had happened once before. 

He never saw her again.

_“I never saw exactly what happened to her.”_

Mum had screamed, and then that scream had cut off horribly, and then there had been something else standing in the doorway. Roving gold eyes and dripping great fangs and curving claws, Hal had been frozen in horror staring at the _thing_ , standing on two legs like a man, but hardly man-like to look at. There was fur. There were pointed _ears_. There was so much blood.

Dad hadn't hesitated to throw himself between the monster and his children. Hal would never forget looking at his Dad’s strong back as the creature had fallen onto him with its claws and fangs.

Joey had been crying, and Hal had snatched him up and turned his face away.

Bea, stupidly brave Bea, had told Hal to take Joey and run for help. She’d had one of Dad’s golf clubs in her hands, ready to beat that thing off Dad, who was becoming more and more quiet as the seconds ticked by.

_“Steady, darling. Steady.”_

Hal had started to run when the first gunshots rang out in the house. 

Men with guns had started streaming in the doorway after the thing. They weren't the police. But for a moment Hal had thought they were there to save them, until he realised that they had been shooting at the monster and Dad both, horrible howls echoing through the air from both of them before silence.

When the guns had turned to the children, Bea had swung the golf club, as Hal watched another member of his family, his big sister, face off to another kind of monster entirely. The men had been shouting about witnesses, and this time Hal did run when Bea told him. 

He’d sprinted out the back for the woods, Joey screaming in his ear for Bea as he’d watched her gunned down. Hal had slapped a hand over Joey’s mouth once they hit the tree-line, running through the familiar trees, no direction in mind, just needing to get away, to keep Joey safe. 

The men had followed them into the woods.

_“Dad, you don't have to—”_

_“If I don't now, I never will.”_

They’d shot him from behind, and Hal had fallen, Joey still cradled in his arms. It had hurt, like his side was on fire, but he’d laid motionless when the men had approached, whispering to Joey to do the same. Joey had stayed still in Hal’s arms on the ground as he’d listened to the men get closer, breathing shallow, holding back the whimpers of pain.

He’d felt their looming presence as they came to inspect Joey and him, had felt one of them breathe not far above his head, and started to worry that they’d check for a pulse and find their prey alive. There would be no escaping if they were found out. 

But there were sirens approaching, getting louder, and the men had scattered. Hal had waited another minute before struggling to his feet and hobbling back to the house, carrying Joey, still and quiet in his arms. 

Hal barely made the tree-line before collapsing, his last view of his home was of an inferno, and the flashing blue lights of the Fire and Police vehicles all the way up the driveway.

He’d woken up in hospital alone.

_“Bullet was a through-and-through.”_

_“Oh, Dad…”_

_“Joey died in my arms in the woods.”_

His first statement had been dismissed as the word of a traumatised child, and he’d been sent for more thorough psychological evaluations before giving his statement again. 

Hal never mentioned the creature again in following interviews. 

Two days later, Aunt Peg had arrived for him from America.

* * *

“As far as the police knew, our house had been the last in a string of violent home-invasions,” Hal said to the stunned silence of the room. “Three other homes were hit that night. Neighbours. I was the only survivor. All the other bodies and evidence had gone been burned up in the house fires.”

Tony didn't know what he’d expected, but it hadn't been _that_. And whether it was true or not, reality or fantasy, Hal’s mourning and heartache was real.

During the story, Michael had migrated from his side to Hal’s, Sharon leaning holding his hand, and Tony was struggling himself not to shuffle over to the other bed too. He’d never known Hal hadn't been an only child. Sharon hadn't lied about no one ever mentioning them. _Bea and Joey Carter_. 

Michael must have known about them, Tony realised. They’d been his cousins, his aunt and uncle. Mary probably knew too. But they’d never said a word. Probably something Hal had asked of them.

The grief on his face… it was evident the years hadn't lessened the pain of their loss for Hal. 

“I didn't forget about them when Aunt Peg took me in. Couldn't,” Hal said. “But there wasn't anything I could do as a minor. When I went back to the UK for Uni though, I dropped out in the first semester without telling anyone. I wanted to track down who’d killed them, the men and the creature both.”

He smiled down at the phone on his lap, Evie smiling back.

“That’s how we met.”

* * *

The first time he met Evie it had been in a dark alley.

She’d stuck a gun in his face, and Hal had held a knife to her neck.

_“You nearly killed Mom?”_

_“She nearly killed me too!”_

Their paths had crossed when their separate investigations into the group of gun men had led them to the same backstreet bar, both thinking the other was part of the group they were hunting, both very eager to take that group down.

It was only the emergence of _actual_ members of the group from the back door of the bar that had prevented the two from killing each other, and they’d had to work together to take them all down.

They’d been hunting the group from two different angles. Hal had only police reports and witness interviews and hearsay to work from. Evie’d had a much larger piece of the puzzle already to start with.

_“He was my fiancé.”_

Evelyn had grown up with Thomas living down the road. He’d been her first everything. Childhood sweethearts who had attended school and university together. He’d popped the question to her on their graduation, and Evie hadn't hesitated to say yes. It was all terribly clichéd and sugary sweet, but they'd been happy together.

The terrible creature that had ripped into Hal’s parents had once been Thomas Grace, a grad student of law, one fiancé to Evelyn Myers, and—

_“A werewolf.”_

A werewolf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before I start NaNoWriMo! So the next few updates will be dependent on how well that goes.
> 
> But here is Hal's (not-so-suprising-since-so-many-of-you-have-already-guessed-it) SECRET REVEAL [part 1]!


	5. Chapter 5

“Grace, you said?”

Hal nodded at the king.

“So, Dr Grace is also…”

“Yes,” Hal nodded. “It’s why she wanted you to hear about this too. So you're aware.”

“Is she dangerous?” T'Challa asked seriously.

“No,” Hal said. “No more than the rest of us. What happened to Thomas wasn't normal ‘wolf behaviour.”

T'Challa looked at the man in front of him carefully.

Sharon squeezed Hal’s hand, “What happened with Thomas?”

“It was a bunch of hunters who thought it’d be good practise to take down a rogue omega. Only there were none around at the time, so they decided to _make_ one,” Hal spat. “Kidnapped him. Poisoned him. Drove him mad. Thomas lost control of himself with the full moon, and then the hunters lost control of him. They were dealt with.”

 _“What Thomas did wasn't his fault,”_ Evie said from the phone in Hal’s other hand. _“But he did it, and it cost lives. Some of the authorities in our communities wanted retribution from the pack as well as the hunters.”_

“I stood on the pack’s side when hunters came, and me being an actual survivor and victim of the whole thing, I managed to convince them to leave the pack alone,” Hal said, with a too casual shrug that told a different story about how easy _convincing_ hunters had really been. “Been doing similar things since, defusing pack, hunter and other creature conflicts with Evie around the world. Only now we get paid for it usually too.”

The room was silent for a long minute, just absorbing all that had been said. 

Sharon didn't know if she was actually as surprised as she thought she should be.

It wasn’t spies and espionage or aliens and demigods, but it was its own brand of crazy that seemed attracted to her family. _Or was it the other way around?_ A different brand of magic, another secret layer of protection hidden from the world at large, and her parents in the thick of things, because of course.

Sharon wasn't surprised of how proud she felt, more about how there wasn’t much bitterness about the secrecy. Maybe if she’d been younger, before she’d joined SHIELD and learned about what it really meant when certain things were kept quiet. 

If there was one thing Sharon felt most strongly right then, it was sympathy and sadness over the losses her parents had suffered when they were so young. Sharon would never know an Aunt Bea and Uncle Joey as anything other than a family story. Sharon was already older than they ever got the chance to be, and though she’d never seen their faces or heard their voices, a part of her loved them anyway, in that way you sometimes loved family, in that way it pulled on her Dad’s face with both tears and a smile. 

 _What would her mother have been like if Thomas had never been kidnapped?_ She’d probably have gone on to marry Thomas, likely never to have met Sharon’s Dad. It was hard to imagine them not a couple, one rarely without the other. And Sharon wouldn't have been born. _Would her parents have been happier in that life they’d never led without her?_ She felt a little like a bad person for those thoughts, but at the same time, with the soft look in Dad’s eyes as he leaned into her and squeezed her hand in the silence, Sharon hoped that she’d been worth the heartbreak for both her parents. 

Hal cleared his throat, “Shall I call Dana back? I expect you’d like to see her for yourself.”

He’d directed the question to the room, but his eyes rested on T’Challa, ultimately the one who would decide if the doctor would be allowed to stay in the country. He nodded, one of the Dora Milajes turning for the door, but she stopped when Hal spoke.

“Dana, you can come back now,” Hal said softly, as though the doctor was already in the room.

It was hardly a moment before the door cracked open, and Dana ducked inside, and Sharon felt she was looking at the woman with new curious eyes. This was a real life _werewolf_. Sharon didn't even know what to expect. 

The Doras had flanked their king, but T'Challa didn't appear threatened or frightened. There was the slightest tilt to his head as he assessed Dana from head to toe. “If you wouldn't mind, Dr Grace, a small demonstration…?”

After a quick nod from Hal, Dana met T’Challa’s eyes, and Sharon watched her face _change_. 

It started with her eyes turning gold, glowing even under the bright lights. Her brow broadened and ridged, bridging with her nose, curving over Dana’s eyes into a frown, and Sharon had the bizarre thought that Dana looked more Klingon than wolf, before she noticed some hair sprouted on the edge of Dana’s cheeks, and that the tips of her ears were now pointed and peeking through her dark hair. Then she dropped her jaw, and Sharon stared at the - and there was no other way to say it - _fangs_ now gleaming where blunt teeth had been before, all wicked sharp and pointed, especially the eye teeth. Sharon was so taken by the fangs that she only vaguely registered the claws that curled out of the tips of Dana’s fingers when she flexed her hands, the claws coming out with a flick, not unlike what T'Challa did in his suit. 

After a minute, Dana’s face changed back, shifting back to the perfectly human face it had been before. 

And she stood there, this creature no longer from storybooks, awaiting judgement. 

“Holy fuck!” Ken crowed, a crazy grin on his face. “Tell me that wasn’t the meds making me see things.”

“I—” Tony’s throat clicked as he gaped at Dana. “I have a lot of questions. _So many_ questions.”

But Dana was still eyeing the king, waiting.

The corner of T’Challa’s mouth twitched, “I think more questions will have to wait until after Dr Grace has had sufficient chance to rest.”

Dana’s shoulders slumped a little with relief, and she managed a smile at the pouts on both Ken and Tony’s faces. “I'm happy to answer some questions now, if you really—”

“No,” Hal piped up, hopping off the bed as he herded Dana back to the door. “You’ve been awake longer than any of us. Time for you to sleep.”

“I need to get Tony back to his room—”

“And I'm sure there are other capable nurses and doctors to do that too.”

“He’s _my_ patient,” Dana nearly snarled, and Sharon couldn’t help trying to pick out the wolf behind the woman’s face now that she knew. 

Hal only turned the doctor around to face the door again. “If you don't leave now there won't be an end to the questions and you _need a break_. Go.”

Dana huffed but didn't stop Hal as he nudged her out of the room. Well, not entirely. Sharon couldn’t help her amusement as she kept watching, the pinching and snapping between them as Hal prodded the doctor out of the room over her last hissed instructions on Tony’s care.

The door shut behind her, and Sharon watched her Dad as he turned to face the room again. There was a new looseness in the way he stood, a burden now gone, a secret revealed. He didn't seem to know what more to say, or maybe he still had too much to say and it wasn't the time. Whatever the reason for the quiet of the room, he still apparently felt a little lighter for it.

Eventually though, T'Challa straightened, hands clasped behind his back. “I believe a break would be a good idea for us all.”

Michael nodded, drawing himself up. “Right. We’ll get Tony back to his room, and then rest for everyone. And I mean _everyone_. Tony, Ken, you can both pick one person to stay with you, but they’ll be using the cot to sleep anyway. And before you try it, _no_ , you cannot pick each other, you're both injured, pick someone who is not. Don't even try me.”

Ken blew a raspberry at Michael. When Tony held out a hand for a solidarity fist-bump to him, the two bedridden idiots missed by about a foot. Their arms didn't stretch that far between their beds, and Sharon wasn't sure if that was just their normal idiocy or some of the meds to blame for that utter fail. 

“And no picking Sharon either," Michael added. “Baby girl needs her rest too.”

“ _Baby_?!” she protested, face heating under the amused looks from everybody, including the King of Wakanda, _for god’s sake Uncle Mikey!_

“Always be the baby,” Ken snickered.

Sharon sighed, _this is my family._

“Carol, you’ll stay with me, right?” Tony piped up. “We gotta go over stuff. Figure out a game plan. We’re gonna get you to _totally_ seduce the pants off my Rhodey-bear this time. Guaranteed.”

“Sure,” Carol said placidly, like everyone in the room didn't know that Tony was going to fall asleep sooner rather than later. Sharon could already see it in his heavy-lidded blinking.

“Then I pick Michael,” Ken said. “Because he doesn’t snore.”

“Alright,” Michael agreed easily, shuffling back over to Tony’s side. “Agent Romanov, would you mind calling in some nurses to help me move Tony back first?”

Romanov wordlessly slipped out of the room, and Hal draped an arm around Sharon’s shoulders to steer her out, back to their borrowed rooms. She tiredly snuggled her head against her Dad’s jaw, “I'm not mad right now, I'm still absorbing, but I reserve the right to yell a little at you and Mom later.”

“Sure, honey,” Hal said, dropping a kiss on her head.

Satisfied, Sharon let her Dad lead on, until a thought popped up in her mind. “Hey, when I was a kid and you checked under the bed for monsters, were you _actually_ checking for monsters? Dad, don't laugh, tell me for real… _Dad_ … Dad, tell me!”

* * *

“Natasha’s back,” Sam announced to the room, unsurprised by the lack of response. “Holed up in her room though. Barton too, but he’s out brooding on the balcony.”

 _Nothing_.

“You guys seen where Scott and Wanda went?”

Still nothing. 

Sam was seriously considering shaking either one of them, but then he ran the risk of shaking apart himself. They were all barely hanging together right now. Sam knew _he_ needed time to reflect himself, but there was still that feeling of _running-out-of-time_ in the air, like a mission countdown. He needed a focus.

But there was no mission. Just the aftermath, and that turned out to be harder than any of them had expected. 

He stood breathing quietly in the doorway, trying to figure out what to do next. Someone had to do something, the way things were it couldn't stand. Sam was trying to decide whether he was about to psyche himself up to try and get one of the two super-soldiers moving, or leaving for a little peace for himself, when another voice finally sounded in the room.

It was surprising how unsurprising that it turned out to be Barnes breaking the silence.

“Y’know why I was in Romania, Steve?”

Steve heaved a shuddering sigh, and Sam stayed hovering at the doorway. 

He didn’t really want to be involved with any more drama right now - and Barnes’ voice held that particular tone of resignation when saying something you knew Steve wasn’t gonna like hearing. Sam had heard it often enough at the Compound, from Stark and Natasha mostly, _and didn't that say something?_ It didn't feel like a good idea leaving the two alone either though, whether some sort of punishment for himself, or just Sam’s reluctance to leave a man, a friend, behind like that right now, he wasn’t sure.

“Ask me, punk.”

Steve was staring vaguely at the tv remote in his hands. He’d snatched it away earlier when he couldn't take any more of the voices rising up on the news, asking for Iron Man, or prayers for War Machine, nearly breaking the remote mashing the power button to turn the damned thing off. “Why, Buck.”

“We’d never been there," Barnes said. “Not back _before_.”

Steve grunted, propping his head on his fists, still holding the remote as Sam just watched the pair on the sofa.

“At least, I don't think so,” Barnes continued, frowning a little. “And it gave me space. I had space. Mine. With no connections. Just to- to figure out my damn head. Got so much stuffed in there it ate up two years nearly of me just… chipping away at the ice.”

He snorted to himself, and Steve held still as he listened.

“And things’re still hazy sometimes. I mean, I knew I was under surveillance.” Sam’s head snapped up at that. “And I knew it was too subtle to be _you_ when you were lookin’ for me. I could’ve come in outta the cold any time, knew you'd be right there.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But I didn’t,” Barnes nodded. “You didn't wonder why? I obviously wasn't living entirely as the Soldier. What was keeping me in Romania then?”

Steve turned to him.

“You been hunting to bring my ass home, but Steve, you didn't asked me if _I_ was ready to come home.” 

Sam watched the colour _drain_  from Steve’s face. 

“You tell everyone, over and over, how the things I did as the Soldier weren't my fault - and I know that, some part of me knows that - but saying it all the time doesn’t make it real to _me_. It doesn’t wash the blood from my nightmares, or make me believe it, just ‘cos you're saying it. I gotta get to that place myself, and yeah some help would’a probably sped things up in those two years away, but it was _my choice_ to do it this way. You chasing after me? Looking for you're old pal Bucky? That was pressure I didn't want."

“I didn't mean- I didn't want that for you, Buck,” Steve gasped. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just wanted you back.”

“I know, but this fight—” Barnes tapped metal fingers to his temple “It ain’t your fight. You gotta stand down.”

Steve laughed without any humour, “I'm thinking that’s my problem."

“S’always been your problem,” Barnes said with a shrug. “You’ve always been gearing for a fight when you saw one. Just haven’t learned yet you and a fight’re not always the solution though, huh?”

Steve tossed the remote onto the sofa between them, and Barnes dropped a hand on Steve’s shoulder, giving him a little shake as he cursed under his breath.

“I- I will never be the Bucky you once knew,” he said, voice rough. “Not really. But I'm here now, for what it’s worth, whether it's on the field... or sitting out of it.”

Steve’s hand shot out to grip Barnes’ tightly.

“I’m here,” Barnes sighed heavily. “And I think we both could use a little help.”

Sam left them to their moment, his mind busy turning over a new idea in his head. Something that could help. _Maybe_. He had some things to think over carefully.

* * *

_“He asleep?”_

“Yeah,” Carol said fondly. “Out the minute I tucked him in.”

_“Thanks.”_

“You don't have to thank me for that.”

 _“Still,”_ Rhodey smiled at her from the phone screen. _“Thanks.”_

Carol slid down in her cot, pulling her blankets up to her chin. It was hardly _cold_ in Wakanda, but the softness was comforting. “Shouldn’t you be resting? What time is it over there? I thought you'd finished your PT earlier.”

The smile stretched into a grimace. _“I'm tired as hell, but I kinda hurt too much to sleep.”_

“Did you overdo it?” Carol frowned, sitting up. “You shouldn’t push yourself too much. Especially so early in your—”

 _“Carol, please,”_ Rhodey cut in, tone sharp. _“Don’t. I'm hearing that enough over here. I know what I'm doing."_

“…Sorry.”

 _“No, I—”_ he huffed on screen. _"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just…”_

Carol waited for him to finish, watching Rhodey scrub a hand roughly over his face as he groaned. 

_“I’m still… me. I'm still me. I just can’t use my- I'm still capable of thinking for myself.”_

“I know,” Carol said softly. “You're still our Rhodey. Still every bit the man we all know and love.”

_“Not every—”_

“Every. Bit.”

The smile came back, half-hearted but genuine. She settled back down again, content to just quietly look at him a little longer and have him just stare back. They were ridiculous, Carol knew that, but no one in the room was going to call them on it. If Tony was awake he’d probably be _cooing_ at them, the strange man.

Rhodey did look exhausted though. His blinking was slow, and the tech was so sharp Carol could _see_ how tense his jaw was as he bit back his yawns. 

_“So, what's keeping you up?”_

“Hmm?”

 _“I know that face, Danvers,"_ Rhodey grinned at her, spark back in his eyes making her heart flutter. _“You’re thinking hard on something. What is it?”_

 _Werewolves_ , Carol nearly blurted out, but that wasn’t her secret to tell. And it was really only the most recent of the developments over the past week that had her brain spinning too fast to rest. If Hal was as close to Rhodey as Carol thought, that little secret would probably be delivered soon enough anyway. But he was still waiting for an answer from her now. “Everything. Everything's keeping me up.”

 _“I hear you,”_ Rhodey sighed. He thumped his head back onto his own pillow, and Carol could just make out the top of the lettering on his USAF shirt. _“We can just stay on the line again. Like last time.”_

“Sounds good,” Carol said, turning over to curl on her side. She propped her cheek on one arm and held the phone closer to her, going nearly cross-eyed to keep Rhodey’s face in view. “You gonna tell me to close my eyes again?”

_“Might do.”_

“Tired of staring into them?” Carol chuckled.

 _“No,”_ Rhodey answered, with more honesty about _that_ than they usually used, and setting Carol’s cheeks ablaze. _“But I will happily try to sleep too, if you close them.”_

And what could she say to that? Nothing. So Carol closed her eyes as he’d asked, slowly, watching through slitted lids to make sure Rhodey was closing his eyes too. And he was, just as slowly as she was, until both their eyelids were shut. The smile on her face felt nearly impossible to tuck away. A snore rumbled behind her suddenly, and Carol huffed a laugh.

_“What?"_

“Nothing,” Carol sighed. “I’m just enjoying the soundscape.”

Rhodey snorted, and Carol didn't have to open her eyes to picture clearly the bright grin he no doubt had on his face right now. _"So romantic, Tones. Thanks, buddy.”_

“He was still insisting on arranging a dinner for us as he drifted off.”

_“Well… maybe we can take him up on that.”_

Carol’s eyes snapped open at that, and she could only _stare_ at Rhodey on the screen. He had a neutral expression on his face, but his eyes weren’t quite meeting hers. This dance of theirs had been going on for so long - Carol hadn’t quite lost hope - the idea of them being a _them_ had stretched to more of a dream than a reality. One on tour while the other was home, both tied up with their separate military ventures, not wanting to start something that couldn't be sustained, never the right time… And that was before all the superheroes high-jinks.

 _“If you're up for a dinner, that is. With me,”_ Rhodey hurried to add.

“If I—” Carol swallowed, throat suddenly dry while her eyes were just as suddenly wet, heart pounding. “Yes. _Yes_ , I'd love to have dinner with you, James.”

 _“Good,”_ Rhodey said, the smile on his face small but so bright. _“That’s good.”_

Carol was an independent forty-year-old adult woman, she shouldn't be blushing as much as she was, and she should have a firmer grasp on the butterflies in her belly. But she didn't really care at the moment. “Next time we’re on the same continent, I'm holding you to it, Rhodes.”

_“Yes, ma’am. It’s a date.”_

* * *

Michael woke with a shudder, blearily looking around for the reason to his sudden start, but found nothing out of place.

The lights in the room were still dimmed low, the door was closed, and Ken was still peacefully acting as a white-noise machine, because he only ever snored when he was on his back, but when he did it was like a chainsaw. Michael couldn't change that though, since his injury prevented Ken from rolling over. It was actually sort of reassuring for Michael to hear. A reminder that the idiot was still alive and breathing in the bed mere feet away. 

Whatever had woken him, Michael was awake now, so he made use of the tiny toilet attached to the room. He was fifty-four now, big and strong and healthy as he ever was, hair still thick but shot through generously with grey like his Dad’s was at this age. Every time he looked at his face in the mirror, Michael could see more of his Dad staring back at him.

He had his mother’s nose though, straighter than the curve of his Dad’s, a reminder of her right at the centre of his face. And what brown that still stubbornly clung to his hair was his Mom’s, too light a shade to be Dad’s. If Michael stared at the mirror long enough, he could pick out all of the parts from his parents looking back at him.

Mary had always looked more like Mom. The arch of her eyebrows, the wide beam of her smile, and it had been downright uncanny sometimes when she’d put her hands on her hips a certain way.

Michael’s hands curled around the rim of the sink, blinking tears away. It didn't make him sad to think of his sister. He thought about her every day. Her end was sad, but Mary had been anything but, it wouldn't be right by her to think of Mary without feeling some of that happiness still. And how much he missed her. 

Peter though, thinking of Peter hurt in a sharper way. 

He’d had Mary’s eyes, not Richard’s pale grey colour, that much Michael remembered. And if he ever came close to forgetting, he only had to look through the small mountain of amateur photographs he had, all taken by Mary. She’d kept the best ones, and Michael had happily taken all the rest that Dad and Tony hadn't snapped up. Blurred, tilted, out of focus, subjects distracted, red eyes or blinking at the wrong moment, Michael had saved them all.

_He wondered if Peter had inherited the Carter nose._

Michael turned away from the thought, shaking his head. He splashed cold water on his face, and headed back into Ken’s room instead. He was still snoring away, reminding Michael that he was hardly as alone or without family as he felt.

And now he was getting sentimental over Ken’s snoring… _He really was a sap_. Mary would get a kick out of that, how Michael was only getting sappier with age. As she’d predicted.

Ambling up to the bed, Michael gently straightened the blankets over Ken’s legs where he’d been kicking, freeing the IV line from under Ken’s hand, and pressing a kiss to Ken’s forehead. He got a little snuffle for that, the same one Ken had always done in his sleep, and Michael tucked himself back in his own bed with a smile. 

* * *

Sam thought Natasha honestly enjoyed having people squirm under her eyes, just to have them squirm and be uncomfortable. To be fair, it was a risk when you just woke Natasha up too. But Sam had dared to knock on her door as soon as it was technically morning. As in, the sun had risen. He couldn't keep a lid on the idea he’d stewed over all night any longer. Besides, Sam wanted to talk while the others were still asleep in their rooms, no one to witness it if Natasha shot his idea down. 

She’d asked for a moment to think five minutes ago, hand still raised from when she’d shushed him. Those green eyes kept him pinned in place, but Sam really did need her help, so he wasn't leaving anyway.

“Hmm,” Natasha said at last, and Sam took that as the cue he could speak again.

“You think it could work?”

“It could,” Natasha said, her hand dropping back to her lap, curling up in the armchair like a cat. Sam barely had time to feel happy of her approval though. “Or it could backfire spectacularly, which knowing our luck is more than likely. But… it could work. If we can get ahead of it properly. It’ll hardly stack against all the other accusations we or Barnes will face, a bare drop in a lake—”

“Then we have that drop makes waves not ripples, or shrink the lake into a puddle, I don't know! But doing _something_ has to be better than _nothing_ ,” Sam insisted, hands clenched tight as he begged Natasha for help with his eyes. “It has to.”

She tilted her head slightly, but he knew her enough to know that was close to a nod from Natasha, and Sam’s shoulders drooped a little in relief.

“Think you could talk to her then?”

Natasha let out a long breath, looking away now with a small frown. “She’s not exactly thrilled with any of you right now, but she’s not gonna let her feelings get in the way of the truth. Especially now.”

“Great,” Sam nodded. “Ok, thanks, Natasha.”

“Oh, this isn't a favour,” Natasha said, that smirk pulling her lips up on one side. A shiver of fear shot down Sam’s spine. “I’ll talk to Sharon, see if we can get back that surveillance info on Barnes, get it out and lock Ross down for good. But _you_ , you’ll have to do something for me.”

Sam gulped, it couldn't be anything nice or easy what with the way Natasha was looking at him with that smirk. The Russian cat that got the cream _and_ the vodka. “What do you need me to do?”

“I’ll let you know.”

* * *

Hal stumbled out of his guest room, heading for the kitchenette and some coffee, when he spotted the back of a familiar head just peeking over the sofa in the living area.

“ _Please_ tell me you actually went to sleep,” Hal groaned.

Dana turned to glare at him over the back of the sofa. “I just got out of bed, as a matter of fact.” 

She did look like she’d just been in bed, dressed in a similar pair of borrowed pyjamas, her short hair spiking up oddly on one side. But ‘in bed’ didn't mean ‘asleep’. Hal gave her the benefit of the doubt for now. At least she’d been resting in some small way. 

“There’s tea in the pot if you want, I just made it.”

“Not coffee?”

“I wanted tea,” Dana shrugged, loudly slurping her steaming cup as she watched Hal grumble through the making the coffee he wanted.

A fresh platter of sliced fruits and pastries had been left on the counter since Hal had gone to bed, and he picked at it while he waited. The sun was rising, casting a muted orange light through the early morning mist outside. Birds were calling out to the new day. It was the start of another beautiful day in Wakanda.

And Dana was still watching him.

“What?” Hal grunted around a slice of mango.

“You doing okay? Now that the ‘ _big secret’_ is out.” She even curled apostrophes in the air with the fingers of one hand.

“Ah,” Hal could probably lie, and under the circumstances Dana might let it go when she heard the trip of his heart. But he didn't have to lie. “Well, it wasn't exactly _pleasant_ thinking back to how it all began. But, it was years ago, I've had a long time to come to terms with what happened. I'm okay.”

He knew his heartbeat hadn't so much as stuttered, but Dana still raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Really,” Hal insisted. “I did expect an interrogation into the side of the world _we_ deal with as we were going to sleep, but Sharon just asked about them. About Bea and Joey and my parents. It was… it was really nice talking about them, actually, sharing them with her now.”

Dana smiled gently at him at that, before turning to tuck herself back up on the sofa. “Good.”

Hal hummed to himself and finished his coffee, snagging one of the pastries and rounding the sofa to join her. The TV was on, muted, captions running across the bottom for the news re-runs that were playing. A plate lay on the cushions on the other side of Dana,the same size as the platter on the counter, with nothing left but crumbs. It reassured Hal that she’d eaten at least, even if she hadn't slept.

Dana nudged him with a knee, “Hell of a mess you’ve brought me into, Carter.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I'm glad. The pack was starting to think you were never gonna tell your family.”

“Hey—!”

“Happy to help though.”

“I owe your pack.”

“Putting aside that _completely_ inaccurate statement, I meant that we were glad you could come to us for help,” Dana said, rolling her eyes at him. “And current circumstances aside, it’s also nice to meet your family after hearing all your stories about them. I feel like I know them already. Though I didn't realise the Tony in your stories was _Tony Stark_.”

Hal chuckled, “Yeah. He’s something, isn't he?”

“No wonder you encouraged the pack on switching to Starkphones,” Dana huffed. 

That reminder pulled another laugh from Hal, and he slumped on the sofa until he was pressed shoulder to shoulder with Dana. 

“So,” she said, after a few more minutes enjoying the sunrise. She turned piercing eyes on Hal, making him wake up faster than the coffee. “How are we getting everyone out of this shitty situation?”

There was no easy answer or solution to that question, _the_ question of the moment. Hal could only use the answer he used in every other situation like this, where he had no clear clue what to do, only the hope and drive to get home safe to his family. “We’ll just take it a day at a time.”

Dana nodded, holding out her mug of tea to him, “I can drink to that!”

Hal had just clinked his mug with hers, when Dana’s attention snapped away and there was a knock on the suite door. Hal frowned, “Can you tell who it is?”

“All I can smell is your coffee right now, and I don’t know the heartbeats well enough to guess.”

Setting his drink down, Hal headed to the door, wondering if it was the King or one of his people. He hoped it wasn't one of the medical staff, though he thought if anything had happened they’d have called Dana. 

For a second, Hal wondered if he was to open the door to Captain America, and wondered further still what he’d actually do if that happened. Probably something regrettable. It was possible it was Michael or Carol, though he doubted they’d leave their posts, but he opened the door on that chance.

He was wrong on all counts.

“Agent Romanov, can I help you with something?” 

Hal tried not to feel intimidated, facing the Black Widow in his pyjamas with bedhead. Romanov had a very serious expression already for this time of morning, and Hal got a feeling today wasn't going to be as directionless as he’d thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, been stuck and busy (still am) so apologies for the wait.
> 
> If you aren't already aware, the [Stony Trumps Hate](https://stonytrumpshate.tumblr.com) auction has started! Head over and bid if you want, it ends 27/05. There are like **100** amazing creators offering all sorts - fic, art, comics, crafts and more. I'm participating too, offering fanfic, you can read [my auction page here](https://riverlander974.tumblr.com/post/160889290812/riverlander974-2017). Go check it all out if you have time, it's for some great causes :)


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